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34 




PRAY, GENTLEMEN, IS NOT THIS SAME HARDCASTLE 
A CROSS-GRAINED, OLD-FASHIONED, WHIMSICAL 
FELLOW ? 



STOOPS TO CONQUER 



Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the 
wrong way. 

Mrs. Hard. 
I'm actually 
afraid of his 
lungs. 

Hard. And 
truly so am I ; 
for he some- 
timeswhoops 
like a speak- 
ing-trumpet— 
{Tony halloo- 
ing belli ud 
the scenes.) — 
Oh, there he 
goes— a very 
consumptive figure, 
truly ! 

Enter Tox y, crossing Hie 
Stage. 

Mrs. Hard. Tony, where are 
you going, my charmer ? Won't 
you give papa and I a little of 
your company, lovey ? 

Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I 
cannot stay. 

Mrs. Hard. You shan't venture 
out this raw evening, my dear : 
you look most shockingly 

Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. 
The Three Pigeons expects me down 
every moment. There's some fun go- 
ing forward. 





SHE STOOPS TO CONilOEE 



Hard. Ay, the alehouse, the old place ; 
I thought so. 

Mrs. Hard. A low, paltry set of fel- 
lows. 

Tony. Not so low, neither. There's 
Dick Muggins, the exciseman, Jack 
Slang, the' horse-doctor, little Aminadab, 
that grinds the music-box, and Tom 
Twist, that spins the pewter platter. 

Mrs. Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint 
them for one night at least. 

Tony. As for disappointing them, I 
should not so much mind ; but I can't 
abide to disappoint myself. 

Mrs. Hard. (Detaining him.) You 
shan't go. 

Tony. I will, I tell you. 

Mrs. Hard. I say you shan't. 

Ton v. We'll see which is the strongest, 
you or I. 

[Exit, hauling her out. 

Hard. (Alone.) A\\ there goes a pair 
that only spoil each other. But is not 
the whole age in a combination to drive 
sense and discretion out of doors ? 
There's my pretty darling, Kate ; the 
fashions of the times have almost infected 
her too. By living a year or two in 
town, she is as fond of gauze and French 
frippery as the best of them. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle. 

Hard. Blessings on my nretty inno- 
cence ! Drest out as usual, my Kate. 
Goodness ! What a quantity of super- 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



fluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl ! 
I could never teach the fools of this age, 
that the indigent world could be clothed 
out of the trimmings of the vain. 

Miss Hani. You know our agreement, 
Sir. You allow me the morning to re- 
ceive and pay visits, and to dress in my 
own manner ; and in the evening I put 
on my housewife's dress to please you. 

Hani. Well, remember I insist on the 
terms of our agreement ; and, by-the-bye, 
I believe I shall have occasion to try your 
obedience this very evening. 

Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I con't com- 
prehend your meaning. 

Haul. 'Then, to be plain with you, 
Kate, I expect the young gentleman I 
have chosen to be your husband from 
town this very day. I have his father's 
letter, in which he informs me his son is 
set out, and that he intends to follow 
himself shortly after. 

Miss Hard. ' Indeed ! I wish I had 
known something of this before. Bless 
me, how shall I behave ? It's a thousand 
to one I shan't like him. Our meeting 
will be so formal, and so like a thing of 
business, that I shall find no room for 
friendship or esteem. 

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never 
control your choice ; but Mr. Marlow, 
whom I have pitched upon, is the son 
of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, 
of whom you have heard me talk so 
often. The young gentleman has been 
bred a scholar, and is designed for an 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



employment in the service of his country. 
I am told he's a man of an excellent un- 
derstanding. 

Miss Hard. Is he ? 

Hard. Very generous. 

Miss Hard. 1 believe I shall like him. 

Hard. Young and brave. 

Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him. 

Hard. And very handsome. 

Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no 
more, {kissing Jiis hand) he's mine — I'll 
have him. 

Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's 
one of the most bashful and reserved 
young fellows in all the world. 

Miss Hard. Eh ! You have frozen me 
to death again. That word reserved has 
undone all the rest of his accomplish- 
ments. A reserved lover, it is said, al- 
ways makes a suspicious husband. 

Hard. On the contrary, modesty sel- 
dom resides in a breast that is not en- 
riched with nobler virtues. It was the 
very feature in his character that first 
struck me. 

Miss Hard. He must have more strik- 
ing features to catch me, I promise you. 
However, if he be so young, so hand- 
some, and so everything", as you mention, 
I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have 
him. 

Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an 
obstacle. It's more than an even wager 
he may not have you. 

Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will 
you mortify one so? — Well, if he refuses, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



instead of breaking my heart at his indif- 
ference, I'll only break my glass for its 
flattery, set my cap to some newer 
fashion, and look out for some less diffi- 
cult admirer. 

Hani. Bravely resolved ! In the 
meantime I'll go prepare the servants for 
his reception : as we seldom see com- 
pany, they want as much training as a 
company" of recruits the first day's 
muster. [Exit. 

Miss Hard. (Alone.) Lud, this news of 
papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, 
handsome ; these he put last, but I put 
them foremost. Sensible, good-natured ; 
I like all that. But then, reserved and 
sheepish ; that's much against him. Yet 
can't he be cured of his timidity, by being 
taught to be proud of his wife ? Yes ; 
and can't I — But I vow I'm disposing 
of the husband, before I have secured the 
lover. 

Enter Miss Neville. 

Miss Hard. I'm glad you're come, 
Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, 
how do I look this evening ? Is there 
anything whimsical about me ? Is it one 
of 'my well-looking davs, child ? Am I 
in face to-dav ? 

Miss Nev. ' Perfectly, my dear. Yet, 
now I look again — bless me ! — sure no 
accident has happened among the canary 
birds or the gold fishes. Has your brother 
or the cat been meddling ? or has the 
last novel been too moving? 

2 




AM I IN FACE Tn-DAT ? 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 



Miss Hard. No ; nothing' of all this. 
I have been threatened — I can scarce get 
it out— I have been threatened with a 
lover. 

Miss Nev. And his name 

Miss Hard. Is Marlow. 

Miss Nev. Indeed ! 

Miss Hard. The son of Sir Charles 
Marlow. 

Miss Nev. As I live, the most intimate 
friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. 
They are never asunder. I believe you 
must have seen him when we lived in 
town. 

Miss Hard. Never. 

Miss Nev. He's a very singular char- 
acter, I assure you. Among women of 
reputation and virtue, he is the modest- 
est man alive ; but his acquaintance give 
him a very different character among 
creatures of another stamp — you under- 
stand me. 

Miss Hard. An odd character, indeed. 
I shall never be able to manage him. 
What shall I do ? Pshaw ! think no 
more of him, but trust to occurrences for 
success. But how goes on your own 
affair, my dear ? has my mother been 
courting you for my brother Tony, as 
usual ? 

Miss Nev. I have just come from one 
of our agreeable tete-a-tetes. She has 
been saying a hundred tender things, 
and setting off her pretty monster as the 
very pink of perfection. 

Miss Hard. And her partiality is such, 



20 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

that she actually thinks him so. A for- 
tune like yours is no small temptation. 
Besides, as she has the sole management 
of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwill- 
ing to let it go out of the family. 

MissNev. A fortune like mine, which 
chiefly consists in jewels, is no such 
mighty temptation. "But at any rate, it 
my dear Hastings he hut constant, I 
make no doubt to be too hard for her at 
last. However, I let her suppose that I 
am in love with her son, and she never 
once dreams that my affections are fixed 
upon another. 

Miss Hani. My good brother holds out 
stoutly. I could "almost love him for 
hating you so. 

Miss Nev. It is a good-natured creature 
at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see 
me married to any body but himself. 
But my aunt's bell rings for our after- 
noon's walk round the improvements. 
Allonsi Courage is necessary, as our 
affairs are critical. 

Miss Hani. " Would it were bed-time, 
and a'l were well." [Exeunt. 

Scene II. — An Alehouse Room. 

Several shabby fellows with punch and 
tobacco: Tour at the head of the table, 
a little higher than the rest : a mallet 
in his hand. 

nines. Hurrea ! hurrea ! hurrea ! 
bravo I 
First Fellow. Xow, gentlemen, silence 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 



for a song. The Squire is going to knock 
himself down for a song. 

Omnes. Ay, a song, a song ! 

Tony. Then, I'll sing you, gentlemen, 
a song I made upon this alehouse, The 
Three Pigeons. 




Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain. 

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; 
Good liquor, 1 stoutly maintain, 

Gives go/us a better discerning. 
Let them brag of their heathenish gods, 

Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians, 
Their gin's, and their q/tcrs, and their quods, 

They're all but a parcel of pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 



When methodist preachers come down, 

A-preaching that drinking is sinful, 
I'll wager the rascals a crown. 

They always preach best with a skinful. 
But when you come down with your pence, 

For a slice of their scurvy religion, 
I'll leaveit to all men of sense, 

But you, my good friend, are the 
pigeon, 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 



Then come, put the jorum 

about. 
And let us be merry and 

clever, 
Our hearts 

and our 

liquors , 



stout. 



i 







SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 
Let some cry up woodcock or hare, 

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons: 
But of all the [gay] birds in the air, 

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 

in ucs. Bravo, brav< > ! 

First Fellow. The Squire has got spunk 
in him. 

Sec. Fellow. I loves to hear him sing, 
bekeays he never gives us nothing that's 
low. 

Third Fellow. Oh, damn anything 
that's low, I cannot bear it. 

Fan rtlt Fellow. The genteel thing is 
the genteel thing at any time : if so be 
that a gentleman bees in a concatena- 
tion accordingly. 

Third Fellow. I like the maxum of it, 
Master Muggins. What though I am 
obligated to dance a bear, a man may be 
a gentleman for all that. May this be' my 
poison, if my bear ever dances but to 
the very genteelest of tunes ; " Water 
Parted," or the minuet in "Ariadne." 

Sec. Fellow. What a pity it is the Squire 
is not come to his own. It would be well 
for all the publicans within ten miles 
round of him 

Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master 
Slang. I'd then show what it was to 
keep choice of comoanv. 

Sec. Fellow. Oh, he takes after his own 
father for that. To be sure, old Squire 
Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I 
ever set my eyes on. For winding the 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



straight horn, or beating a thicket for a 
hare, or a wench, he never had his fel- 
low. It was a saying in the place, that 
he kept the best horses, dogs, and girls 
in the whole county. 

Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age, I'll 
be no bastard, I promise you. I have 
been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the 
miller's gray mare to begin with. But 
come, my boys, drink about and be merry, 
for you pay ho reckoning. Well, Stingo, 
what's the matter ? 

Enter Landlord. 

La iidl. There be two gentlemen in a 
l^ost-chaise at the door. They have lost 
their way upo' the forest ; and they are 
talking something about Mr. Hardcastle. 

Tony. As sure as can be, one of them- 
must 'be the gentleman that's coming 
down to court my sister. Do they seem 
to be Londoners ? 

Landl. I believe they may. They 
look woundily like Frenchmen. 

Tony Then desire them to step this 
way, and I'll set them right in a twink- 
ling. (Exit Landlord.) Gentlemen, as 
they mayn't be good enough company 
for you, step down for a moment, and I'll 
be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. 
\ Exeunt mob. 

Tony. (Alone.) Father-in-law has been 
calling me whelp, and hound, this half- 
year. Xow, if I pleased, I could be so 
revenged upon the old grumbletonian. 



OOPS TO CONQU1 



But then I'm afraid — Afraid of what ? I 
shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a- 
year, and let him frighten me out of that 
if he can. 

Enter Landlord, conducting Marlow 
and Hastings. 

Mart. What a tedious, uncomfortable 
day have we had of it ! We were told it 
was but forty miles across the country, 
and we have come about three score. 

Hast. And all, Marlow, from that un- 
accountable reserve of yours, that would 
not let us inquire more frequently on the 
way. 

Marl. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling 
to lay myself under an obligation to 
every one I meet, and often stand the 
chance of an unmannerly answer. 

Hast. At present, however, we are not 
likely to receive any answer. 

Tony. No offence, gentlemen. But 
I'm told you have been inquiring for one 
Mr. Hardcastle in these parts. "Do you 
know what part of the country you are in? 

Hast. Not in the least, Sir, but should 
thank you for information. 

Tony. Nor the way you came ? 

Hast. No, Sir ; but if you can inform 
us 

Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know 
neither the road you came, the first thing 
I have to inform you is, that — you have 
lost your way. 

Marl. We wanted no ghost to tell us 
that. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so 
bold as to ask the place from whence 
you came ? 

Marl. That's not necessary towards 
directing us where we are to go. 

Tony. No offence ; but question for 
question is all fair, you know. Pray, 
gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle'a 
cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical 
fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and 
a pretty son ? 

Hast. We have not seen the gentle- 
man ; but he has the family you mention. 

Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, 
trolloping, talkative maypole ; the son, "a 
pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that 
every body is fond of ? 

Marl. Our information differs in this. 
The daughter is said to be well-bred, and 
beautiful; the son an awkward booby, > 
reared up and spoiled at his mother's 
apron-string. 

Tony. He-he-hem !— Then, gentlemen, 
all I have to tell you is, that you won't 
reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, 
I believe. 

Hast. Unfortunate ! 

Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, 
dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the 
gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's ; 
(winking upon the Landlord,) Mr. Hard- 
castle's,' of Quagmire Marsh — you under- 
stand me. 

Landl. Master Hardcastle's ? Lock- 
a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly 
deal wrong ! When you came to the 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. ZJ 

bottom of the hill, you should have 
crossed down Squash-lane. 

Marl Cross down Squash-lane ! 

Landl. Then you were to keep straight 
forward, till you came to four roads. 

Marl. Come to where f< >ur n >ads meet? 

Tony. Ay ; but you must be sure to take 
only one of them, 

Marl. O Sir, you're facetious. 

Tony. Then keeping to the right, you 
are to go sideways, till you come upon 
Crack-skull common : there you must 
look sharp for the track of the wheel, and 
go forward till you come to farmer Mur- 
rain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, 
you are to turn to the right, and then to 
the left, and then to the right about again, 
till you find out the old mill — 

Marl: Zounds, man ! we could as soon 
find out the longitude ! 

Hast. What's to be done, Marlow ? 

Marl. This house promises but a poor 
reception ; though perhaps the landlord 
can accommodate us. 

La in II . Alack, master, we have but one 
spare bed in the whole house. 

Tony. And to my knowledge, that's 
taken up by three lodgers already. (After 
a pause, in which the rest seem disconcert- 
ed. ) I have hit it : don't you think, Stingo, 
our landlady could accommodate the 
gentlemen by the fireside, with — three 
chairs and a bolster ? 

Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside. 

Marl. And I detest your three chairs 
and a bolster. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUE1 



Tony. You do, do you ? — Then, let me 
see,— what if you go on a mile further, to 
the Buck's Head— the old Buck's Head 
on the hill, one of the best inns in the 
whole county ? 

Hast. O ho ! so we have escaped an 
adventure for this night, however. 

Land!. ("Apart to Tony.) Sure, you 
ben't sending them to your father's as an 
inn, be you ? 

Tony. ' Mum, you fool you. Let them 
find that out. (To thou.) " You have only 
to keep on straight forward, till you come 
to a large old house by the road side. 
You'll see a pair of large horns over the 
door. That's the sign. Drive up the 
yard, and call stoutly about you. 

Hast. Sir. we are" obliged" to you. The 
servants can't miss the way ? 

Tony. Xo, no : But I tell you, though, 
the landlord is rich, and going to leave 
off business ; so he wants to be thought 
a gentleman, saving your presence, he ! 
he ! he ! He'll be for giving you his com- 
pany ; and, ecod, if you mind him, he'll 
persuade you that his mother was an al- 
derman, and his aunt a justice of peace. 

Landl. A troublesome old blade, to be 
sure ; but a keens as good wines and beds 
as any in the whole country. 

Marl. Well, if he supplies us with 
these, we shall want no farther connec- 
tion. \Ye are to turn to the right, did y< >u 
say ? 

Tony. Xo, no ; straight forward. I'll 



SHE STOOPS TO CON Q I'Eli. 29 

just step myself, and show you a piece of 
the way. (To the Landlord'.) Mum ! 
Laudl. Ah, bless your heart, for a 

sweet, pleasant damned, mischievous, 

son of a whore. [Exeunt. 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — Mr. Hardcastle's House. 

Enter Hardcastle, followed by three or 
four awkward Servants. 

Hard. Well, I hope you are perfect in 
the table exercise I have been teaching 
you these three days. You all know your 
places, and can show that you have been 
used to good company, without ever stir- 
ring from home ? 

Omnes. Ay, ay. 

Hard. When company comes, you are 
not to pop out and stare, "and then run in 
again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. 

Omnes. No. no. 

Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have 
taken from the barn, are to make a show 
at the side-table ; and you, Roger, whom 
I have advanced from the plough, are to 
place yourself behind my chair. But 
you're not to stand so, with your hands 
in vour pockets. Take your hands from 
y< mr pockets, Roger — and from your head, 
you blockhead you. See how Diggory 
carries his hands. They're a little too 
stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. 

Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them. I 
learned to hold my hands this way, when 



3° 



SHE S TOO 



TO CONQUER. 




* 



Hani. You must 

. not be so talkative, 

fl ? Diggory. You must 



I was upon drill for 
the militia. And so 

being upon drill 

;t 

e 

must 

be all " attention to 

the guests. You must 

hear us talk, and not 

think of talking ; you 

must see us drink, and not 

think of drinking; you must 

see us eat, and not think of 

eating. 

Dig. By the laws, your wor- 
ship, that's parfectly impossi- 
ble. Whenever Diggory sees yeating 
going forward, eeod, he's always wish- 
ing for a mouthful himself. 

Hard. Blockhead ! is not a bellyful in 
the kitchen as good as a bellyful in the 
parlour ? Stay your stomach with that 
reflection. 

Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll 
make a shift to stay my stomach with 
a slice of cold beef in the pantry. 

Hard. Diggorv, you are ^ — 
too talkative!7 Then, 'if I hap 
pen to say a good thing, oi 
tell a good story, at tab.e, yoi 
must not all burst out a-laugh- 
ing, as if you made part of \ ^\ 
the company. 
Dig. Then, ecod, your wor- / »«jf 



-, 



'1 



ship must not tell the story of 
Ould Grouse in the gun-room : I 



can't 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



help laughing at that— he ! he ! he ! — 
for the soul of me. We have laughed 
at that these twenty years — ha ! ha ! 
ha! 

Hard. Ha ! ha ! ha ! The story is a 
good one. Well, honest Diggory, you 
may laugh at that ; but still remember 
to be attentive. Suppose one of the com- 
pany should call for a glass of wine, 
how will you behave ? A glass of wine, 
Sir, if you please, ( To Diggory, — Eh, why 
don't you move ? 

Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never 
have courage till I see the eatables and 
drinkables "brought upo' the table, and 
then I'm as bauld as a lion. 

Hard. What, will nobody move ? 

First Servant. I'm not to leave this 
pleace. 

Sec Servant. I'm sure it's no pleace of 
mine. 

Third Servant. Nor mine, for sartain. 

Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be 
mine. 

Hard. You numskulls ! and so, while, 
like your betters, you are quarrelling for 
places, the guests must be starved ! O 
you dunces ! I find I must begin all 

over again But don't I hear a coach 

drive into the yard ? To your posts, you 
blockheads. I'll go in the meantime, and 
give my old friend's son a hearty recep- 
tion at the gate. [Exit Hardcastle. 

Dig. By the elevens ! my place is quite 
gone out of my head. 



SHE STOOPS To CONQUE R 



Roger. I know that my pleace is to be 
everywhere. 

First Servant. Where the devil is 
mine ? 

Sec. Servant My pleace is to be no 
where at all ; and' so I'se go about my 
business. 

Exeunt Servants, running about as if 
frighted, different ways. 

Enter Servant, with candles, showing in 
Marlow and Hastings. 

Servant. Welcome, gentlemen, very 
welcome ! This way. 

Hast. After the disappointments of 
the clay, welcome once more, Charles, to 
the comforts of a clean room and a good 
fire. Upon my word, a very well look- 
ing house : antique, but creditable. 

Marl. The usual fate of a large man- 
sion. Having first ruined the master by 
good house-keeping, it at last comes to 
levy contributions as an inn. 

Hast. As you say, we passengers are 
to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I 
have often seen a good sideboard, or a 
marble chimney-piece, though not ac- 
tually put in the bill, inflame a reckoning 
confoundedly. 

Marl. Travellers, George, must pay in 
all places. The only difference is, that 
in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries ; 
in bad inns you nre fleeced and starved. 

Hast. You have lived pretty much 
among them. In truth, I have been often 



TOOPS TO CONQUER 



surprised, that you, who have seen so 
much of the world, with your natural 
good sense, and your many opportunities, 
could never yet acquire a requisite share 
of assurance. 

Marl, The Englishman's malady. But 
tell me, George, where could I have 
learned that assurance you talk of ? My 
life has been chiefly spent in a college, 
or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely 
part of the creation that chiefly teach 
men confidence. I don't know that I 
was ever familiarly acquainted with a 
single modest woman, except my mother 
— But among females of another class, 
you know 

Hast. Ay, among them you are im- 
pudent enough, of all conscience. 

Mail. They are of us, you know. 

Hast. But in the company of women 
of reputation, I never saw such an idiot 
— such a trembler ; you look for all the 
world as if you wanted an opportunity 
of stealing out of the room. 

Marl. Why, man, that's because I do 
want to steal out of the room. Faith, I 
have often formed a resolution to break 
the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But, 
I don't know how, a single glance from a 
pair of fine eyes has totally overset my 
resolution. An impudent "fellow may 
counterfeit modesty, but I'll be hanged 
if a modest man can ever counterfeit im- 
pudence. 

Hast. If you could but say half the 
fine things to them, that I have heard 

3 



SHE STOOPS TO CON QUE] 



you lavish upon the bar-maid of an inn, 
or even a college bed-maker 

Marl. Why, George, I can't say fine 
things to them — they freeze, they petrify 
me. They may talk of a comet, or a 
burning mountain, or some such baga- 
telle ; but to me, a modest woman, drest 
out in all her finery, is the most tremen- 
dous object of the whole creation. 

Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! At this rate, man, 
how can you ever expect to marry ? 

Marl. Never ; unless, as among kings 
and princes, my bride were to be courted 
by proxy. If, indeed, like an Eastern 
bridegroom, one were introduced to a 
wife he never saw before, it might be 
endured. But to go through all the ter- 
rors of a formal courtship'together with 
the episode of aunts, grandmothers, and 
cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad, 
staring question of, " Madam, will you 
marry me ? " No, no, that's a strain 
much above me, I assure you. 

Hast. I pity you. But how do you 
intend behaving to the lady you are come 
down to visit, at the request of your 
father ? 

Marl. As I behave to all other ladies ; 
bow very low ; answer yes, or no, to all 
her demands. But for the rest, I don't 
think I shall venture to look in her face, 
till I see my father's again. 

Hast. I'm surprised that one who is so 
warm a friend, can be so cool a lover. 

Marl. To be explicit, my dear Hast- 
ings, my chief inducement clown was to 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 2S- 

be instrumental in forwarding your hap- 
piness, not my own. Miss Neville loves- 
you, the family don't know you ; as my 
friend, you are sure of a reception, and 
let honour do the rest. 

Hast. My dear Marlow ! But I'll sup- 
press the emotion. Were I a wretch,, 
meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, 
you should be (he last man in the world 
I would apply to for assistance. But 
Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and 
that is mine, both from her deceased 
father's consent, and her own inclina- 
tion. 

Marl. Happy man ! You have talents 
and art to captivate any woman. I'm 
doomed to adore the sex, and yet to con- 
verse with the only part of it I despise. 
This stammer in my address, and this 
awkward unprepossessing visage cf 
mine, can never permit me" to soar above 
the reach of a milliner's 'prentice, or one 
of the duchesses of Drury-lane. Pshaw !' 
this fellow here to interrupt us. 

Enter Hakdcastle. 

Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are 
heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Mar- 
low ? Sir, you are heartily welcome. 
It's not my way, you see, to receive my 
friends with my back to the fire. I like 
to give them a hearty reception in the 
old style at my gate. I like to see their 
horses and trunks taken care of. 

Marl. [Aside.) He has got our names. 



36 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



from the servants already. I To him. \ We 
approve your caution and hospitality, 
Sir. {To Hastings.) I have been thinking, 
George, of changing our travelling 
dresses in the morning. I am grown 
confoundedly ashamed of mine. 

Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use 
no ceremony in this house. 

Hast. I fancy, Charles, you're right : 
the first blow is half the battle. I intend 
opening the campaign with the white 
and g( >ld. 

Hard. Mr. Marlow— Mr. Hastings- 
gentlemen — pray be under no restraint 
in this house. " This is Liberty-hall, 
gentlemen. You may do just as you 
please here. 

Marl. Yet, George, if we open the 
campaign too fiercely at first, we may 
want ammunition before it is over. I 
think to reserve the embroidery to secure 
a retreat. 

Hard. Your talking of a retreat. Mr. 
Marlow, puts me in mind of the Duke of 
Marlborough, when we went to besiege 
Denain. He first summoned the garri- 
son 

Marl. Don't you think the ventre dor 
waistcoat will do with the plain brown ? 

Hard. He first summoned the garri- 
son, which might consist of about five 
thousand men— — 

Hast. I think not : brown and yellow 
mix but very poorly. 

Hard. I say. gentlemen, as I was tell- 
ing you, he summoned the garrison, 



STOOPS TO CONQUER. 37 



which might consist of about five thou- 
sand men 

Marl. The girls like finery. 

Hard. Which might consist of about 
five thousand men, well appointed with 
stores, ammunition, and other imple- 
ments of war. Now, says the Duke of 
Marlborough to George Brooks, that 
stood next to him — You must have heard 
of George Brooks— I'll pawn my duke- 
dom, says he, but I take that garrison 
without spilling a drop of blood. So 

Marl. What, my good friend, if you 
gave us a glass of punch in the mean- 
time ? it would help us to carry on the 
siege with vigor. 

Hani. Punch, Sir! (Aside.) This is 
the most unaccountable kind of modesty 
I ever met with. 

Marl. Yes, Sir, punch. A glass of 
warm punch, after our journey, will be 
comfortable. This is Liberty-hall, you 
know. 

{Enter Roger with a cup.] 

Hard. Here's a cup, Sir. 

Marl. (Aside.) So this fellow, in his 
Liberty-hall, will only let us have just 
what he pleases. 

Hard. (Taking the cup.) I hope you'll 
find it to your mind. I have prepared it 
with my own hands, and I believe you'll 
own the ingredients are tolerable. Will 
you be so "good as to pledge me, Sir ? 
Mere, Mr. Marlow, here is to our better 
acquaintance. (Drinks. ) 



38 SHE STOOPS TO CON QUI 



Marl. [Aside.) A very impudent fellow 
this ! but he's a character, and 1 11 humour 
him a little. Sir, my service to you. 
{Drinks. | 

Hast. {Aside.) I see this fellow wants 
to give us his company, and forgets that 
he's an innkeeper, before he has learned 
to be a gentleman. 

Marl. From the excellence of your 
cup, my old friend, I suppose you have a 
good deal of business in this part of the 
country. Warm work, now and then, at 
■elections, I suppose ? 

Hard. Xo, Sir, I have long given that 
work over. Since our betters" have hit 
upon the expedient of electing each 
other, there is no business " for "us that 
sell ale." 

Hast. So, then, you have no turn for 
politics, I find. 

Hard. Not in the least. There was a 
time, indeed, I fretted myself about the 
mistakes of government, like other 
people ; but finding myself every day 
grow more angry, and the government 
growing no better, I left it to mend itself. 
Since that, I no more trouble my head 
about Hyder Ally, or Ally Cawri, than 
about Ally Croaker. Sir, my service to 
you. 

Hast. So that with eating above stairs, 
and drinking below, with receiving your- 
friends within, and amusing them with 
out, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling 
life of it. 

Hard. I do stir abou' a great deal, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



that's certain. Half the differences of the 
parish are adjusted in this very parlour. 

Marl. (After drinking, i And" you have 
an argument in your cup, old gentleman, 
better than any in Westminster-hall. 

Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and 
a little philosophy. 

Marl. (Aside.) Well, this is the first 
time I ever heard of an innkeeper's 
philosophy ! 

Hast So, then, like an experienced 
general, you attack them on every quar- 
ter. If you find their reason manage- 
able, you attack it with your philosophy ; 
if you find they have no reason, you 
attack them with this. Here's your 
health, my philosopher. (Drinks.) 

Hard. "Good, very good, thank you ; 
ha ! ha ! Your generalship puts me in 
mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought 
the Turks, at the battle of Belgrade. You 
shall hear 

Marl. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, 
I believe it's almost time to talk about 
supper. What has your philosophy got 
in the house for supper ? 

Hard. For supper, Sir! (Aside.) 
Was ever such a request to a man in his 
own house ! 

Marl. Yes, Sir, supper, Sir ; I begin 
to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish 
work to-night in the larder, I promise you. 

Ha I'd. (Aside.) Such a bra/en clog sure 
never my eyes beheld ! ( To him. i Why, 
really, Sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. 
My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle 



STOOPS TO COXQUER. 



these things between them. I leave these 
kind of things entirely to them. 

Marl. You do, do you ? 

Hard. Entirely. By-the-bye, I believe 
they are in actual consultation upon 
what's for supper this moment in the 
kitchen. 

Marl. Then I beg they'll admit me as 
one of their privy-council. It's a way I 
have got. When I travel I always choose 
to regulate my own supper. Let the cook 
be called. No offence, I hope, Sir ? 

Hard. O no, Sir, none in the least ; 
yet I don't know how — our Bridget, the 
cook-maid, is not very communicative 
upon these occasions. " Should we send 
for her, she might scold us all out of the 
house. 

Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, 
then. 1 ask it as a favour. I always 
match my appetite to my bill of fare. 

Marl. {To Hardcastle, who looks at 
than with surprise. ) Sir, he's very right, 
and it's my way t< >< ». 

Hard. Sir, you have a right to com- 
mand here. Here. Roger, bring us the 
bill of fare for to-night's supper : I be- 
lieve it's drawn out.— Your manner. Mr. 
Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, 
Colonel Wallop. It was a sayipg of his, 
that no man was sure of his supper till 
he had eaten it. 

Enter Roger. 

Hast. ( Aside. \ All upon the high ropes l 
His uncle a colonel ! we shall soon hear 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 41 

of his mother being a justice of peace. 
But let's hear the bill of fare. 

Marl. {Perusing.) What's here? For 
the first course ; for the second course ; 
for the dessert. The devil, Sir, do you 
think we have brought down the whole 
joiner's Company, or the Corporation of 
Bedford, to eat up such a supper ? Two 
or three little things, clean and comfort- 
able, will do. 

Hast. But, let's hear it. 

Marl. (Reading.) " For the first course : 
— At the top, a pig, and pruin sauce." 

Hast. Damn your pig ! f say. 

Marl. And damn your pruin sauce I 
say I. 

Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men 
that are hungry pig with pruin sauce is 
very good eating. 

Marl. " At the bottom a calf's tongue 
and brains." 

Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, 
my good Sir ; I don't like them. 

Marl. Or you may clap them on a 
plate by themselves. I do. 

Hard. ( Aside. ) Their impudence con- 
founds me ! ( To than. i Gentlemen, you 
are my guests, make what alterations you 
please. Is there any thing else you wish 
to retrench or alter, gentlemen ? 

Mail. "Item: A pork pie; a boiled 
rabbit and sausages ; a Florentine ; a 
shaking pudding, and a dish of tiff — taff 
— taffety cream ! " 

Hast Confound your made dishes ; I 
shall be as much at a loss in this house as 



SHE STOOPS TO C O N t> V E R 



at a green and yellow dinner at the 
French ambassador's table. I'm for plain 
eating. 

Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I 
have nothing you like ; but if there be 
any thing you have a particular fancy 

Marl. Why, really, Sir, your bill of 
fare is so exquisite, that any one part of 
it is lull as good as another. Send us 
what you please. So much for supper. 
And now to see that our beds are aired, 
and properly taken care < >f. 

Hard. I entreat you'll 
leave all that to me. You 
shall not stir a step. 

Marl. Leave that to you ! 
I protest, Sir, you must ex- 
cuse me ; I always look to 
these things myself. 

Hard. I must insist, Sir, 
I you'll make yourself easy on 
\ that head. 

' Marl. You see I'm re- 

J solved on it. {Aside.) A 

very troubles* >me fellow this, 

as "ever I met with. 

Hard. Well, Sir, I'm re- 

i : \&d solved at least to attend y< »u. 

/ ;jflk (Aside. ) This may be mod- 

Pv" era modesty, but I never 

t saw anything look so like 

old-fashioned impudence. 

Exeunt Marlow and 

U HA ! WHAT DO I SEE 5 HARDCASTLE. 

MISS NEVILLE, BY ALL Htist. (.\lO!H\) Sol find 

that's happy." this fellow's civilities begin 




iTOOPS TO CONQUER 



to grow troublesome. But who can 
be angry at those assiduities which 
are meant to please him ? — Ha ! what 
do I see ? Miss Neville, by all that's 
happy ! 

Enter Miss Neville. 

Miss Nev. My dear Hastings ! To 
what unexpected good fortune — to what 
accident, am I to ascribe this happy 
meeting ? 

Hast Rather let me ask the same 
question, as I could never have hoped to 
meet my dearest Constance at an inn. 

Miss Nev. An inn ! sure you mistake : 
my aunt, my guardian, lives here. What 
could induce you to think this house an 
inn ? 

Hast. My friend, Mr. Marlow, with 
whom I came down, and I, have been 
sent here as to an inn, I assure you. A 
young fellow whom we accidentally met 
at a house hard by, directed us hither. 

Miss Xcv. Certainly it must be one of 
my hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you 
have heard me talk so often ; ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Hast He whom your aunt intends for 
you ? he of whom I have such just appre- 
hensions ? 

Miss Xcv. You have nothing to fear 
from him, I assure you. You'd adore 
him if you knew how heartily he despises 
me. My aunt knows it too, and has un- 
dertaken to court me for him, and ac- 
tually begins to think she has made a 
conquest. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



Hast Thou dear dissembler! You 
must know, my Constance, I have just 
seized this happy opportunity of my 
friend's visit here to get admittance into 
the family. The horses that carried us 
down are" now fatigued with their jour- 
ney, but they'll soon be refreshed ; and, 
then, if my dearest girl will trust in her 
faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed 
in France, where even among slaves the 
laws of marriage are respected. 

Miss Nev. I "have often told you, that 
though ready to obey you, I yet should 
leave my little fortune behind with re- 
luctance" The greatest part of it was left 
me by my uncle, the India Director, and 
chiefly consists in jewels. I have been 
for some time persuading my aunt to let 
me wear them. I fancy I'm very neat- 
succeeding. The instant they are put 
into my possession, you shall find me 
ready to make them and myself yours. 

Hast. Perish the baubles" ! Your per- 
son is a!l I desire. In the meantime, my 
friend Marlow must not be let into his 
mistake. I know the strange reserve of 
his temper is such, that if abruptly in- 
formed of it, he would instantly quit the 
house, before our plan was ripe for exe- 
cution. 

Miss Nev. But how shall we keep 
him in the deception ? — Miss Hardeastle 
is just returned from walking — What if 

we still continue to deceive him ? 

This, this way [They confer. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Enter Marlow. 

Marl. The assiduities of these good 
people tease me beyond bearing. My 
host seems to think it ill manners to 
leave me alone, and so he elaps not only 
himself but his old-fashioned wife on my 
back. They talk of coming to sup with 
us too ; and then, I suppose, we are to 
run the gauntlet through all the rest of 
the family. — What have we got here ? 

Hast. My dear Charles ! "Let me con- 
gratulate you — The most fortunate acci- 
dent ! — Who do you think is just alighted ? 

Marl. Cannot guess. 

Hast. Our mistresses, boy, Miss Hard- 
castle and Miss Neville. Give me leave 
to introduce Miss Constance Neville to 
your acquaintance. Happening to dine in 
the neighbourhood, they called, on their 
return, to take fresh horses here. Miss 
Hardcastle has just stept into the next 
room, and will be back in an instant. 
Wasn't it lucky ? eh ! 

Marl. {Aside.) I have been mortified 
enough of all conscience, and here 
comes something to complete my em- 
barrassment. 

Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most 
fortunate thing in the world ? 

Marl. Oh, yes. Very fortunate — a 
most joyful encounter — But our dresses, 
George, you know, are in disorder — 
What if we should postpone the happi- 
ness till to-morrow ? — To-morrow at her 
own house— It will be every bit as con- 



46 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



venient — and rather more respectful — 
To-morrow let it be. [Offering to go. 

Miss Nev. By no means, "Sir. Your 
ceremony will displease her. The dis- 
order of your dress will show the ardour 
of your impatience. Besides, she knows 
you are in the house, and will permit you 
to see her. 

Marl. Oh, the devil ! How shall I 
support it ?— Hem ! hem ! Hastings, you 
must not go. You are to assist me, you 
know. I shall be confoundedly ridiculous. 
Yet hang it ! I'll take courage. Hem ! 

Hast. "Pshaw, man ! It's but the first 
plunge, and all's over. She's but a wo- 
man, you know. 

Marl. And of all women, she that I 
dread most to encounter ! 

Enter Miss Hardcastlk, as returned 
from walking, a bonnet, &c. 

Hast. (Introducing them.) Miss Hard- 
castle, Mr. Mar-low. I'm proud of bring- 
ing two persons of such merit together, 
that only want to know, to esteem each 
other. 

Miss Hard. {Aside.) Now for meet- 
ing my modest gentleman with a demure 
face, and quite in his own manner. 
(After a pause, in which he appears very 
uneasy and disconcerted.) I'm glad of 
your safe arrival. Sir — I'm told you had 
some accidents by the way. 

Mail. Only a lew, Madam. Yes, we 
had some. Yes, Madam, a good many 
accidents : but should be sorry — Madam 



SHE STOOPS TO C O N Q U 3 R . 



— or rather glad, of any accidents — that 
are so agreeably concluded. Hem ! 

Hast. (To him.) You never spoke 
better in your whole life. Keep it up, 
and I'll insure you the victory. 

Miss Hard. I'm afraid you flatter. Sir. 
You that have seen so much of the finest 
company, can find little entertainment in 
an obscure corner of the country. 

Marl. [Gathering courage.) ' I have- 
lived, indeed, in the world, Madam : but 
I have kept very little company. I have 
been but an observer upon life, Madam, 
while others were enjoying it. 

Miss Nev. But that", I am told, is the 
way to enjoy it at last. 

Hast <To him.) Cicero never spoke 
better. Once more, and you are con- 
tinned in assurance for ever. 

Marl. ( To him. t Hem ! stand by me, 
then ; and when I'm down, throw in a. 
word or two to set me up again. 

Miss Hard. An observer, like you^ 
u^on life, were, I fear, disagreeably em- 
ployed, since you must have had much, 
more to censure than to approve. 

Marl. Pardon me, Madam. I was 
always willing to be amused. The folly 
of most people is rather an object of 
mirth than uneasiness. 

Hast. {To him.) Bravo, bravo. Never 
spoke so well in your whole life. Well, 
Miss Hardcastle, "I see that you and Mr. 
Marlow are going to be very good com- 
pany. I believe our being here will but 
embarrass the interview — 



48 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



Marl. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. 
We like your company of all things. 
{To him.) Zounds! George, sure you 
won't go ? how can you leave us ? 

Hast. Our presence will but spoil con- 
versation, so we'll retire to the next 
room. (To him.) You don't consider, 
man, that we are to manage a little tete- 
a-tete of our own. [Exeunt. 

Miss Hard. (After a pause.) But you 
have not been wholly an observer, I pre- 
sume. Sir : the ladies, I should hope, 
have employed some part of your ad- 
dresses. 

Mart. [Relapsing into timidity.) Par- 
don me, Madam, I— I — I— as yet, have 
studied — only — to — deserve them. 

Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the 
verv worst way to obtain them. 

Mail Perhaps so, Madam. But I 
love to converse only with the more 
grave and sensible part of the sex — But 
I'm afraid I grow tiresome. 

Miss Hard. Not at all, Sir ; there is 
nothing I like so much as grave conver- 
sation myself ; I could hear it forever. 
Indeed I have often been surprised how 
a man of sentiment could ever admire 
those light airy pleasures, where nothing 
reaches the heart. 

Marl. It's a disease of the mind, 

Madam. In the variety of tastes there 

must be some, who, wanting a relish 

for urn — a — urn. 

Miss Hard. I understand you, Sir. 
There must be some, who, wanting a 




" I UNDERSTAND YOU PERFECTLY, SIR. 

49 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



relish for refined pleasures, pretend to de- 
spise what they are incapable of tasting. 

Marl. My meaning", Madam ; but in- 
finitely better expressed. And I can't 
help observing a 

Miss Hard. (Aside.) Who could ever 
suppose this fellow impudent upon some 
occasions! (To him.) You were going 
to observe, Sir 

Marl. I was observing, Madam — I 
protest, Madam, I forget what I was 
going to observe. 

Miss Hard. (Aside:) I vow, and so 
do I. (To him.) You were observing, 
Sir, that in this age of hypocrisy — some- 
thing about hypocrisy, Sir. 

Marl. Yes, Madam. In this age of 
hypocrisy, there are few, who, upon strict 
inquiry, do not — a — a — a 

Miss Hard. I understand you perfectly, 
Sir. 

Marl. (Aside.) Egad ! and that's more 
than I do myself. 

Miss Hard. You mean that in this 
hypocritical age, there are few that do 
not condemn in public what they practise 
in private, and think they pay every debt 
to virtue when they praise it. 

Marl. True, Madam ; those who have 
most virtue in their mouths, have least 
of it in their bosoms. But I'm sure I tire 
you, Madam. 

Miss Hard. Not in the least, Sir ; 
there's something so agreeable and spir- 
ited in your manner, such life and force 
— Pray, Sir, go on. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 51 

Marl. Yes, Madam, I was saying 

that there are some occasions— when a 
total want of courage, Madam, destroys 

all the and puts us upon — a — a — 

a 

Miss Hard. I agree with you entirely : 
a want of courage upon some occasions, 
assumes the appearance of ignorance, 
and betrays us when we most want to 
excel. I beg you'll proceed. 

Marl. Yes, Madam. Morally speak- 
ing, Madam— But I see Miss Neville ex- 
pecting us in the next room. I would 
not intrude for the world. 

Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I never was 
more agreeably entertained in all my 
life. Pray go on. 

Marl. "Yes, Madam, I was But she 

beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I 
do myself the honour to attend vou ? 

Miss Hard. Well, then, I'll follow. 

Marl. (Aside.) This pretty smooth 
dialogue has done for me. [Exit 

Miss Hard. (Alone.) Ha! ha! ha! 
Was there ever such a sober, sentimental 
interview ! I'm certain he scarce looked 
in my face the whole time. Yet the fel- 
low, but for his unaccountable bashful- 
ness, is pretty well too. He has good 
sense ; but then so buried in his fears, 
that it fatigues one more than ignorance. 
If I could teach him a little confidence, it 
would be doing somebody that I know 
of a piece of service. But who is that 
somebody ? That, faith, is a question I 
can scarce answer. [Exit 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



Enter Tony and Miss NEVILLE, followed 
by Mrs. Hardcastle a«# Hastings. 

Tony. What do you follow me for, 
cousin Con ? I wonder you're not 
ashamed to be so very engaging. 

Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one may 
speak to one's own relations, and not be 
to blame. 

Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a 
relation you want to make me though ; 
but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, 
it won't do ; so I beg you'll keep your 
distance — I want no nearer relationship. 
[She follows, coquetting Jiim to the 
back scene. 

Mrs. Hard. Well, I vow, Mr. Hastings, 
you are very entertaining. There's noth- 
ing in the world I love to talk of so much 
as London, and the fashions ; though I 
was never there myself. 

Hast. Never there ! You amaze me ! 
From your air and manner, I concluded 
you had been bred all your life either at 
Ranelagh, St. James's, or Tower Wharf. 

Mrs. Hard. Oh, Sir, you're only pleased 
to say so. We country persons can have 
no manner at all. I'm in love with the 
town, and that serves to raise me above 
some of our neighbouring rustics ; but 
who can have a manner, that has never 
seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, 
the Borough, and such places where the 
nobility chiefly resort ? All I can do is 
to enjoy London at second-hand. I take 
care to know every tCte-a-iele from the 



m 



N 



1Y It 






h 



.-' 



EXTREMELY ELEGANT AND DEGAUEE, UPON MY 
WORD MADAM." 



54 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUliR. 

Scandalous Magazine, and have all the 
fashions, as they come out, in a letter 
from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked 
Lane. Pray, how do you like this head, 
Mr. Hastings ? 

Hast. Extremely elegant and degagee. 
upon my word, Madam. Your friseur is 
a Frenchman, I suppose ? 

Mrs. Hard. I protest, I dressed it my- 
self from a print in the Ladies' Memo- 
randum-book for the last year. 

Hast. Indeed ! Such a' head in a side- 
box at the play-house, would draw as 
many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a 
city ball. 

Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation 
began, there is no such thing to be seen 
as a plain woman ; so one must dress a 
little particular, or one may escape in the, 
crowd. 

Hast. But that can never be your case, 
Madam, in any dress. (Bowing.) 

Mrs. Hard.' Yet, what signifies my 
dressing, when I have such a piece of 
antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle : 
all I can say will never argue down a 
single button from his clothes. I have 
often wanted him to throw off his great 
flaxen wig, and where he was baid, to 
plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, 
with powder. 

Hast. You are right, Madam ; for, as 
among the ladies there are none ugly, so 
among the men there are none old. 

Mrs. Hard. But what do you think 
his answer was ? Why, with his usual 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 55 



Gothic vivacity, he said I only wanted 
him to throw off his wig to convert it 
into a tite for my own wearing. 

Hast. Intolerable ! At your age you 
may wear what you please, and it must 
become you. 

Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what 
do you take to be "the most fashionable 
age about town ? 

Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the 
mode ; but I'm told the ladies intend to 
bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. 

Mrs. Hard. Seriously ? Then I shall be 
too young for the fashion. 

Hast. No lady begins now to put on 
jewels till she's past forty. For instance, 
miss there, in a polite "circle, would be 
considered as a child — a mere maker of 
samplers. 

Mrs. Hard. And yet, Mrs. Niece thinks 
herself as much a woman, and is as fond 
of jewels, as the oldest of us all. 

Hast Your niece, is she ? And that 
young gentleman — a brother of yours, I 
should presume ? 

Mrs. Hard. My son, Sir. They are 
contracted to each other. Observe their 
little sports. They fall in and out ten 
times a day, as if they were man and wife 
already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, 
what soft things are you saying to your 
cousin Constance this evening ? 

Tony. I have been saying no soft 
things ; but that it's very hard to be 
followed about so. Ecod ! I've not a 




O LUD HE HAS ALMOST CRACKED MY HEAD. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 57 

place in the house now that's left to my- 
self but the stable. 

Mrs. Hani. Nevermind, him, Con, my 
dear, he's in another story behind your 
back. 

Miss Nev. There's something generous 
in my cousin's manner. He falls out be- 
fore faces, to be forgiven in private. 

Tony. That's a damned, confounded — 
crack. 

Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he's a sly one. Don't 
you think they're like each other about 
the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkin- 
sop mouth to a T. They're of a size too. 
Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Has- 
tings may see you. Come, Tony. 

Tony. You had as good not make" me, 
I tell you. (Measuring.) 

,17/55. Nev. O lud ! he has almost 
cracked my head. 

Mrs. Hard. Oh, the monster ! For 
shame, Ton}-. You a man, and behave 
so ! 

Tony. If I'm a man. let me have my 
fortin. Ecod ! I'll not be made a fool of 
no longer. 

Mvs.^Hard. Is this, ungrateful boy, all 
that I'm to get for the pains I have taken 
in your education ? I that have rocked 
you in your cradle, and fed that pretty 
mouth with a spoon ! Did not I work 
that waistcoat to make you genteel ? Did 
not I prescribe for you every day, and 
weep while the receipt was operating ? 

Tony. Ecod! you had reason to weep, 
for you have been dosing me ever since 



58 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



I was born. I have gone through every 
receipt in the Complete Housewife ten 
times over ; and you have thoughts of 
coursing me through Quincy next spring. 
But, ecod ! I tell you, I'll not be madea 
fool of no longer. 

Mrs. Hard. Wasn't it all for your good, 
viper ? Wasn't it all for your good ? 

Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good 
alone, then. Snubbing this way when 
I'm in spirits ! If I'm to have any good, 
let it come of itself ; not to keep dinging 
it, dinging it into one so. 

Mrs. Hard. That's false ; I never see 
you when you're in spirits. No, Tony, 
you then go to the alehouse or kennel. 
I'm never to be delighted with your 
agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster ! 

Tony. Ecod ! mamma, youi'own notes 
are the wildest of the two. 

Mrs. Hard. Was ever the like ? But 
I see he wants to break my heart ; I see 
he does. 

Hast. Dear Madam, permit me to 
lecture the young gentleman a little. I'm 
certain I can persuade him to his duty. 

Mrs. Hard. Well, I must retire. Come, 
Constance, my^pve. You see, Mr. Hast- 
ings, the wretchedness of my situation : 
was ever poor woman so plagued with a 
dear sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful 
bov! 

[Exeunt Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss 
Neville, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



Tony. {Singing.) 

There was a young man riding by, 
And fain would have his will. 

Rang do didlo dee. — 

Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the 
comfort of her heart. I have seen her 
and sister cry over a book for an hour to- 
gether ; and they said they liked the book 
the better the more it made them cry. 

Hast. Then you're no friend to the 
ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman? 

Tony. That's as I find 'urn. 

Hast. Not to her of your mother's 
choosing, I dare answer ? And yet she 
appears to me a pretty, well tempered 
girl. 

Tony. That's because you don't know 
her as well as I. Ecod ! " I know every 
inch about her ; and there's not a more 
bitter, cantankerous toad in all Christen- 
dom. 

Hast. (Aside.) Pretty encouragement 
this for a lover ! 

Tony. I have seen her since the height 
of that. She has as many tricks as a hare 
in a thicket, or a colt the first day's break- 
ing. 

Hast. To me she appears sensible and 
silent. 

Tony. Ay, before company. But when 
she's with her playmates, she's as loud as 
a hog in a gate. 

Hast. But there is a meek modesty 
about her that charms me. 




I HAVE SEEN HER SINCE THE HEIGHT OF 
THAT." 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Tony. Yes, but curb her never so little, 
she kicks up, and you're Hung in a ditch. 

Hast. Well, but you must allow her a 
little beauty. — Yes, you must allow her 
some beauty. 

Tony. Bandbox ! She's all a made-up 
thing,' mun. Ah ! could you but see Bet 
Bouncer of these parts, you might then 
talk of beauty. Ecod ! she has two eyes 
as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and 
red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two 
of she. 

Hast. Well, what say you to a friend 
that would take this bitter bargain off 
your hands ? 

Tony. Anon ! 

Hast. Would you thank him that 
would take Miss Neville, and leave you 
to happiness and your dear Betsy ? 

Tony. Ay ; but where is there such a 
friend, for who would take her ? 

Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, 
I'll engage to whip her off to France, 
and you shall never hear more of her. 

Tony. Assist you ! Ecod I will, to the 
last drop of my blood. I'll clap a pair of 
horses to your chaise that shall trundle 
you off in a twinkling, and may be get 
you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, 
that you little dream of. 

Hast. My dear Squire, this looks like a 
lad of spirit 

Tony. Come along, then, and you shall 
see more of my spirit before you have 
done with me. [Singing.) 




WE ARE THE BOYS THAT FEARS NO NOISE. 
62 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 63 



We are the boys 

That fears no noise 

Where the thundering cannons roar. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT III. 

Scene.— A Room in Mr. Hardcastle's 
House. 

Enter Hardcastle. 

Hard. What could my old friend Sir 
Charles mean by recommending his son 
as the modestest young man in town ? 
To me he appears the most impudent 
piece of brass that ever spoke with a 
tongue. He has taken possession of the 
easy chair by the fireside already. He 
took off his boots in the parlour, and de- 
sired me to see them taken care of. I'm 
desirous to know how his impudence 
affects my daughter. She will certainly 
be shocked at it. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle, plain ty dressed. 

Hard. Well, my Kate, I see you have 
changed your dress, as I bid you-; and 
yet, I believe, there was no great occa- 
sion. 

Miss Hard. I find such a pleasure, Sir, 
in obeying your commands, that I take 
care to observe them without ever debat- 
ing their propriety. 

Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes 



64 SHE STOOfS TO CONQUi 



give you some cause, particularly when 
I recommended my modest gentleman to 
you as a lover to-day. 

Miss Hard. You taught me to expect 
something extraordinary, and I find the 
original exceeds the description. 

Hani. I was never so surprised in 
my life ! He has quite confounded all 
my faculties. 

miss Hani. I never saw any thing like 
it ; and a man of the world too ! 

Hani. Ay, he learned it all abroad — 
what a fool was I, to think a young man 
could learn modesty by travelling. He 
might as soon learn wit at a masquerade. 

Miss Haiti. It seems all natural to 
him. 

Hard. A good dea! assisted by bad 
company and a French dancing-master. 

Miss Hard. Sure you mistake, papa. 
A French dancing-master could never 
have taught him that timid look — that 
awkward address — that bashful manner. 

Hard. Whose look ? whose manner, 
child ? 

Miss Hard. Mr. Marlow's : his mau- 
vaise hottte, his timidity, struck me at the 
first sight. 

Hard. Then your first sight deceived 
you; for I think him one of the most 
brazen first sights that ever astonished 
my senses. 

Miss Hard. Sure, Sir, you rally ! I 
never saw any one so modest. 

Hard. And can you be serious ? I 
never saw such a bouncing, swaggering 




HE MET ME WITH A LOUD VOICE. 



STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



puppy since I was born. Bully Dawson 
was but a fool to him. 

Miss Hard. Surprising! He met me 
with a respectful bow," a stammering 
voice, and a look tixecl on the ground. 

Hard. He met me with a loud voice, 
a lordly air, and a familiarity that made 
my blood freeze again. 

Miss Hard. He'treated me with diffi- 
dence and respect ; censured the man- 
ners of the age ; admired the prudence 
of girls that "never taughed ; tired me 
with apologies for being tiresome ; then 
left the room with a bow, and "Madam, 
I would not for the world detain you." 

Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew 
me all his life before ; asked twenty 
questions, and never waited for an an- 
swer ; interrupted my best remarks with 
some silly pun ; and when I was in my 
best story of the Duke of Marlborough 
and Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not 
a good hand at making punch ! Yes, 
Kate, he asked your father if he was a 
maker of punch ! 

Miss Hard. One of us must certainly 
be mistaken. 

Hard. If he be what he has shown 
himself, I'm determined he shall never 
have my consent. 

Miss Hard. And if he be the suMen 
thing I take him, he shall never have 
mine. 

Hard. In one thing, then, we are 
agreed— to reject him. 

Miss Hard. Yes — but upon conditions. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 67 



For if you should find him less impu- 
dent, and I more presuming ; if you find 
him more respectful, and I more impor- 
tunate — I don't know — the fellow is well 
enough, for a man — Certainly we don't 
meet many such at a horse-race in the 
country. 

Hard. If we should find him so 

But that's impossible. The first appear- 
ance has done my business. I'm seldom 
deceived in that. 

Miss Hard. And yet there may be 
many good qualities" under that ' first 
appearance. 

Hard. Ay, when a girl finds a fellow's 
outside to her taste, she then sets about 
guessing the rest of his furniture. With 
her, a smooth face stands for good sense, 
and a genteel figure for every virtue. 

Miss Hard. I hope. Sir. a conversation 
begun with a compliment to my good 
sense, won't end with a sneer at my 
understanding ! 

Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young 
Mr. Brazen can find the art of reconciling 
contradictions, he may please us both, 
perhaps. 

Miss Hard. And as one of us must be 
mistaken, what if we go to make further 
discoveries ? 

Hard. Agreed. But, depend on't, I'm 
in the right. 

Miss Hard. And, depend on't, I'm not 
much in the wrong. 

[Exeunt. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONon-K 



Enter Tony, running in with a casket. 

Tony. Ecod ! I have got them. Here 
they are. My cousin Con's necklaces, 
bobs and all. My mother shan't cheat 
the poor souls out of their fortin neither. 
O my genus, is that you ? 

Enter Hastings. 

Hast. My dear friend, how have you 
managed with your mother? I hope 
you have amused her with pretending 
love for your cousin, and that you are 
willing to be reconciled at last ? Our 
horses will be refreshed in a short time, 
and we shall soon be ready to set off. 

Tony. And here's something to bear 
your charges by the way — (giving the 
casket) — your sweetheart's jewels. Keep 
them ; and hang those, I say, that would 
rob you of one of them. 

Hast. But how have you procured 
them from your mother ? 

Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll 
tell you no fibs. I procured them by the 
rule of thumb. If I had not a key to 
every drawer in mother's bureau, how 
could I go to the alehouse so often as I 
do ? An honest man may rob himself 
of his own at any time. 

Hast. Thousands do it every day. 
But, to be plain with you, Miss Neville is 
endeavouring to procure them from her 
aunt this very instant. If she succeeds, 
it will be the most delicate way, at least, 
of obtaining them. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 69 



Tony. Well, keep them, till you know 
how it will be. But I know how it will 
be well enough ;— she'd as soon part with 
the only sound tooth in her head. 

Hast. But I dread the effeets of her 
resentment, when she finds she has lost 
them. 

Tony. Never you mind her resent- 
ment, "leave mc to 'manage that. I don't 
value her resentment the bounce of a 
cracker. Zounds ! here they are. Mor- 
rice ! Prance ! 

[Exit Hastings. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss 
Neville. 

Mrs. Hard. Indeed, Constance, you 
amaze me. Such a girl as you want 
jewels ! It will be time enough for 
jewels, my dear, twenty years hence, 
when your beauty begins to want re- 
pairs. 

Miss Nev. But what will repair beauty 
at forty, will certainly improve it at 
twenty, Madam. 

Mrs. Hard. Yours, my dear, can admit 
of none. That natural blush is beyond 
a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, 
jewels are quite out at present. Don't 
you see half the ladies of our acquaint- 
ance, my Lady Kill-day-light, and Mrs. 
Crump, and the rest of them, carry their 
jewels to town, and bring nothing but 
"paste and marcasites back. 

Miss Nev. But who knows, Madam, 
but somebody that shall be nameless 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



would like me best with all my little 
finery about me ? 

Mrs Hard. Consult your glass, my 
•dear, and then see if, with such a pair of 
eyes, you want any better sparklers. 
What do you think, Tony, my dear? 
Does your "cousin Con want any jewels, 
in your eyes, to set off her beauty ? 

Tony. That's as thereafter may be. 

Miss Nev. My clear aunt, if you knew 
how it would oblige me. 

Mrs. Hard. A parcel of old-fashioned 
rose and table-cut things. They would 
make you look like the court of King Sol- 
omon at a puppet-show. Besides, I be- 
lieve, I can't readily come at them. They 
may be missing for aught I know to the 
contrary. 

Tony. (Apart to Mrs. HARDCASTLE.) 
Then" why don't you tell her so at once, 
as she's so longing for them ? Tell her 
they're lost ; it's the only way to quiet 
her". Say they're lost and call me to bear 
witness. 

Mrs. Hard. (Apart to Tony.) You 
know, my dear, I'm only keeping them 
for you. So if I say they're gone, you'll 
bear me witness, will you ? He ! he ! 
he! 

Tony. Never fear me. Ecod ! I'll say 
I saw" them taken out with my own eves. 

Miss Nev. I desire them but for a day. 
Madam — just to be permitted to show 
them as "relics, and then they may be 
locked up again. 

Mrs. Hard. To be plain with you, my 



U CONQUER 



dear Constance ; if I could find them you 
should have ihem. They're missing, I 
assure you. Lost, for aught I know ;'but 
we must have patience wherever they 
are. 

Miss Nev. I'll not believe it : this is 
but a shallow pretence to deny me. I 
know they are too valuable to be so 
slightly kept, and as you are to answer 
for the loss 

Mrs. Hard. Don't be alarmed, Con- 
stance. If they be lost, I must restore an 
equivalent. But my son knows they are 
missing, and not to be found. 

Tony. That I can bear witness to. 
They "are missing, and not to be found ; 
I'll take my oath on't ! 

Mrs. Hard. You must learn resig- 
nation, my dear ; for though we lose our 
fortune, yet we should "not lose our 
patience. See me, how calm I am ! 

Miss Nev. Ay, people are generally 
calm at the misfortunes of others. 

Mrs. Hard. Now, I wonder a girl of 
your good sense should waste a thought 
upon such trumpery. We shall soon 
find them ; and in the meantime you shall 
make use of my garnets till your jewels 
be found. 

Miss Nev. I detest garnets. 

Mis. Hard. The most becomingthings 
in the world to set off a clear complexion. 
You have often seen how well they look 
upon me. You shall have them. '[Exit. 

Miss Nev. I dislike them of all things. 
You shan't stir.— Was ever anvthing'so 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



provoking, to mislay my own jewels, 
and force me to wear her trumpery. 

Tony. Don't be a fool. If she" gives 
you the garnets, take what you can get. 
The jewels are your own" already." I 
have stolen them but of her bureau, and 
she does not know it. 
Fly to your spark, 
he'll tell you more of 
the matter. Leave 
me to manage her. 

MissNev. My dear 
cousin ! 

Tony. Vanish. She's 
here, " and has miss- 
ed t h e m already. 
[Exit Miss Neville.] 

r Zounds ! how she fid- 

WTOWbk gets and spits about 
3 like a Ca t h eri n e 

\ wheel ! 




ZOUNDS ! HOW SHE FIDGETS 
AND SPITS AliOUT LIKE A 
CATHERINE WHEEL." 



Enter Mrs. Hardcas- 
tle 
Mrs. Hani. Con- 
fusion ! thieves ! rob- 
bers ! We are cheated, plundered, broke 
open, undone. 

Tony. What's the matter, what's the 
matter, mamma ? I hope nothing has 
happened to anvof the good family? 

Mrs. Hard. We are robbed ! My bu- 
reau has been broken open, the jewels 
taken out, and I'm undone ! 

Tony. Oh ! is that all ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
By the laws, I never saw it better acted 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



in my life. Ecod, I thought you was 
ruined in earnest, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Hard. Why, boy, I am ruined in 
earnest. My bureau has been broken 
open, and all taken away. 

Tony. Stick to that, ha ! ha ! ha ! stick 
to that. I'll bear witness, you know ! 
call me to bear witness. 

Mrs. Haul. I tell you, Tony, by all 
that's precious, the jewels are gone, and 
I shall be ruined for ever. 

Tony. Sure I know they are gone, and 
I am to say so. 

Mrs. Hard. My dearest Tony, but hear 
me. They're gone, I say. 

Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make 
me for to laugh, ha ! ha ! I know who 
took them well enough, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a 
blockhead, that can't tell the difference 
between jest and earnest ! I tell you 
I'm not in jest, booby. 

Tony. That's right, that's right ; you 
must be in a bitter passion, and then no- 
body will suspect either of us. I'll bear 
witness that they are gone. 

Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a 
cross-grained brute, that won't hear me ! 
Can you bear witness that you're no bet- 
ter than a fool ? Was ever poor woman 
so beset with fools on one hand, and 
thieves on the other ? 

Tony. I can bear witness to that. 

Mrs. Hard. Bear witness again, you 
blockhead, you, and I'll turn you out of 
the room directly. My poor niece, what 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



will become of her ! Do you laugh, you 
unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my 
distress ? 

Tony. I can bear witness to that. 

Mrs. Hard. Do you insult me, mon- 
ster ? I'll teach you to vex your mother, 
I will ! 

Tony. I can bear witness to that. {He 
runs off, she follows him.) 

Enter Miss Hardcastle and Maid. 

Miss Hard. What an unaccountable 
creature is that brother of mine, to send 
them to the house as an inn, ha ! ha ! I 
don't wonder at his impudence 

Maid. But what is more, Madam, the 
young gent 'email, as you passed by in 
your present dress, asked me if you were 
the bar-maid ? He mistook you for the 
bar-maid. Madam ! 

Miss Hard. Did he ? Then, as I live, 
I'm resolved to keep up the delusion 
Tell me. Pimple, how do you like my 
present dress? Don't you think I look 
something like Cherry in the Beaux' 
Stratagem .' 

Maid. It's the dress. Madam, that 
every lady wears in the country, but 
when she visits or receives company. 

Miss Hard. And are you sure he'does 
not remember my face or person ? 

Maid. Certain of it. 

Miss Hard. I vow I thought so ; for 
though we spoke for some time together, 
yet his fears were such that he never 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 



once looked up during the interview. 
Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have 
kept him from seeing me. 

Maid. Hut what "do you hope from 
keeping him in his mistake ? 

Miss Hard. In the first place, I shall 
be seen, and that is no small advantage 
to a girl who brings her face to market. 
Then I shall perhaps make an acquaint- 
ance, and that's no small victory gained 
over one who never addresses any but 
the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim 
is to take my gentleman off his "guard.and, 
like an invisible champion of romance, 
examine the giant's force before I offer 
to combat. 

Maid. But are you sure you can act 
your part, and disguise your voice so 
that he may mistake that, as he has 
already mistaken your person ? 

Miss Ha I'd. Never fear me. I think I 
have got the true bar cant— Did your 
honour call ? — Attend the Lion there. — 
Pipes and tobacco for the Angel. — The 
Lamb has been outrageous this half hour. 

Maid. It will do, Madam. But he's 
here. [Exit Maid. 

Enter Marlow. 

Marl. What a bawling in every part 
of the house ! I have scarce a moment's 
repose. If I go to the best room, there I 
find my host and his story ; if I fiy to the 
gallery, there we have my hostess with 
her curtsey down to the ground. I have 



76 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUI 



at last got a moment to myself, and now 
for recollection. [Walks and muses. 

Miss Hard. Did you call, Sir ? Did 
your honour call ? 

Marl. (Musing.) As for Miss Hard- 
castle, she's too grave and sentimental 
for me. 

Miss Hard. Did your honour call ? (She 
still places herself before him, he turning 
away.) 

Marl. Xo, child. {Musing.) Besides, 
from the glimpse I had of her, I think 
she squints. 

Miss Hard. I'm sure, Sir, I heard the 
bell ring. 

Marl. No, no. (Musing.) I have 
pleased my father, however, by coming 
down, and I'll to-morrow please myself 
by returning. ( Taking out his tablets' and 
perusing.) 

Miss Hard. Perhaps the other gentle- 
man called, Sir ? 

Mart. I tell you, no. 

Miss Hard. I should be glad to know, 
Sir : we have such a parcel of servants. 

Marl. Xo, no, I tell you. (Looks full 
in her face.) Yes, child, I think I did 
call. I wanted — I wanted — I vow, child, 
you are vastly handsome. 

Miss Hard. O la, Sir, you'll make one 
ashamed. 

Marl. Never saw a more sprightly 
malicious eve. Yes, yes, my dear, I did 
call. Have" you got any of your— a— what 
d' ye call it, in the house ? 



STOOPS TO CON' 



Miss Hard. No, Sir, we have been 
out of that these ten days. 

Marl. One may call" in this house, I 
find, to very little purpose. Suppose I 
should call for a taste, just by way of 
trial, of the nectar of your lips, perhaps I 
might be disappointed in that too. 

Miss Haul Nectar ! nectar ! That's 
a liquor there's no call for in these parts. 
French, I suppose. We keep no French 
wines here. Sir. 

Marl. Of true English growth, I as- 
sure you. 

Miss Hard. Then it's odd I should not 
know it. We brew all sorts of wines in 
this house, and I have lived here these 
eighteen years. 

Marl. Eighteen years ! Why, one 
would think, child, you kept the bar be- 
fore you were born. How old are vou ? 

Miss Hani Oh, Sir, I must not tell 
my age. They say women and music 
should never be dated. 

Marl. To guess at this distance, you 
can't be much above forty. (Approach- 
ing.) Yet nearer, I don't think so much. 
j. Ipproaching.) By coming close to some 
women, they look younger still ; but 
when we come very close indeed— 
i Attempting to kiss tier.) 

Miss Hard. Prav, Sir, keep your dis- 
tance. One would think you wanted to 
know one's age as they do horses, by 
mark of mouth. 

Marl. I protest, child, you use me ex- 
tremely ill. If you keep 'me at this dis- 



78 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

tance, how is it possib'.e you and I can 
ever be acquainted ? 

Miss Hard. And who wants to be ac- 
quainted with you ? I want no such ac- 
quaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not 
treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here 
awhile ago, in this obstroyalous manner. 
I'll warrant me, before her you looked 
dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, 
and talked, for all the world, as if you 
were before a justice of \ eace. 

Marl. (Aside.) Egad, she has hit it, 
sure enough ! {To her.) In awe of her, 
child ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! A mere awkward, 
squinting thing! No, no. I hud you 
don't know me. I laughed and rallied 
her a little ; but I was unwilling to be 
too severe. No, I could not be too severe, 
curse me ! 

Miss Hard. Oh, then. Sir, you are a 
favourite, I rind, among the ladies ? 

Marl. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. 
And vet, hang me, I don't see what they 
find in me "to follow. At the Ladies' 
Club in town I'm called their agreeable 
Rattle. Rattle, my child, is not my real 
name, but one I'm known by. My name 
is Solomons ; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at 
your service. [Offering to salute her.) 

Miss Hard. Hold, Sir ; you are intro- 
ducing me to your club, n< t to yourself. 
And you're so great a favourite there, you 
sav ? 

Marl. Yes. my dear. There's Mrs. 
Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the 
Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Longhorns, old 



STOOPS TO CONQUER 



Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble 
servant, keep up the spirit of the place. 

Miss Hard. Then it's a very merry 
place, I suppose ? 

Marl. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, 
wine, and ( Id women can make us. 

Miss Hard. And their agreeable Rat- 
tle, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Marl. {Aside). Egad ! I don't quite 
like this chit. She looks knowing, me- 
thinks. You laugh, child! 

Miss Hard. I can't but laugh to think 
what time they all have for minding 
their work, or their family. 

Marl. (Aside.) All's well ; she don't 
laugh at me. (To her.) Do you ever 
work, child ? 

Miss Hard. Ay, sure. There's not a 
screen or a quilt in the whole house but 
what can bear witness to that. 

Marl. Odso ! then you must show 
me your embroidery. I embroider and 
draw patterns myself a little. If you 
want a judge of your work, you must 
apply to me. (Seizing her hand.) 

Miss Hard. Av, but the colours don't 
look well by candlelight. You shall see 
all in the morning. (Struggling.) 

Marl. And why not now, my angel ? 
Such beauty fires beyond the power of 
resistance.— Pshaw ! the father here r 
Mv old luck: I never nicked seven that 
I did not throw am^s-ace three times fol- 
lowing. {Exit Marlow. 



SHE STOOPS TO COXnlEK 



Enter Hakdcastle, who stands in sur- 
prise. 

Hard. So, Madam. So I find this is 
your modest lover. This is your humble 
admirer, that kept his eyes' fixed on the 
ground, and only adored at humble dis- 
tance. Kale, Kate, art thou not ashamed 
to deceive your lather so ? 

Miss Haul. Never trust me, dear papa, 
but he's still the modest man I first took 
him for ; you'll be convinced of it as well 
as I. 

Hard. By the hand of my body, I be- 
lieve his impudence i^ infectious ! ' Didn't 
I see him seize your hand ? Didn't I see 
him haul you about like a milk-maid ? 
And now you talk of his respect and his 
modest v. forsooth ! 

Miss Hard. But if I shortly convince 
you of his modesty, that he has only the 
faults that will pass off with time/ and 
the virtues that will improve with age, I 
ho^e you'll forgive him. 

Hard. The girl would actually make 
one run mad ! I tell you I'll not be con- 
vinced. I am convinced. He has scarce 
been three hours in the house, and he 
has already encroached on all my pre- 
rogatives. You may like his impudence, 
and call it modesty; but my son-in-law, 
Madam, must have very different qualifi- 
cations. 

Miss Hard. Sir, I ask but this night 
to convince you. 

Hard. You shall not have half the 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



time, for I have thoughts of turning him 
out this very hour. 

Miss Hani. Give me that hour, then, 
and I hope to satisfy you. 

Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. 
But I'll have no trifling with your father. 
All fair and open, do your mind me ? 

Miss Hard. I hope", Sir, you have ever 
found that I considered your commands 
as my pride ; for your kindness is such 
that my duty, as yet, has been inclina- 
tion. [Exeunt 



ACT IV. 

Scene.— A Room in Mr. Hardcastle's 

House. 

Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 

Hast. You surprise me : Sir Charles 
Marlow expected here this night ! Where 
have you had your information ? 

Miss Nev. You may depend upon it. 
I just saw his letter to Mr. Hardcastle, 
in which he tells him he intends setting 
out a few hours after his son. 

Hast. Then, my Constance, all must 
be completed before he arrives. He 
knows me ; and should he find me here, 
would discover my name, and, perhaps, 
my designs, to the Vest of the family. 

Miss Nev. The jewels, I hope, are 
safe? 

Hast. Yes, yes. I have sent them to 

6 



82 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Mar low, who keeps the keys of our bag- 
gage. In the meantime, I'll go to pre- 
pare matters for our elopement. I have 
had the Squire's promise of a fresh pair 
of horses ; and if 1 should not see him 
again, will write him further directions. 

[Exit 

Miss Nev. Well, success attend you J 

In the meantime, I'll go amuse my aunt 

with the old pretence of a violent passion 

for my cousin. [Exit, 

Enter Marlow, followed by a Servant. 

Marl. I wonder what Hastings could 
mean by sending me so valuable a thing 
as a casket to keep for him, when he 
knows the only place I have is the seat of 
a post-coach at an inn door. Have you 
deposited the casket with the landlady, 
as I ordered you ? Have you put it into 
her own hands ? 

Serv. Yes, your honour. 

Marl. She said she'd keep it safe, did 
she ? 

Serv. Yes ; she said she'd keep it safe 

enough. She asked me how I came by 

it ; and she said she had a great mind to 

make me give an account of myself. 

[Exit Servant. 

Marl. Ha ! ha ! ha ! They're safe, 
however. What an unaccountable set of 
beings have we got amongst ! This little 
barmaid, though, runs in my head most 
strangely, and drives out the absurdities 
of all the rest of the family. She's mine, 
she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 8j 



Enter Hastings. 

Hast. Bless me ! I quite forgot to tell 
her that I intended to prepare at the bot- 
tom of the garden. Marlow here, and in 
spirits too ! 

Marl. Give me joy, George ! Crown 
me ; shadow me with laurels ! Well, 
George, after all, we modest fellows don't 
want for success among the women. 

Hast. Some women, you mean. But 
what success has your honour's modesty 
been crowned with now, that it grows so- 
insolent upon us ? 

Marl. Didn't you see the tempting,, 
brisk, lovely little thing, that runs about 
the house with a bunch of keys to its- 
girdle ? 
" Hast. Well ! and what then ? 

Marl. She's mine, you rogue, you. 
Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such 
lips — but, egad ! she would not let me 
kiss them though. 

Hast. But are you so sure, so very sure 
of her ? 

Marl. Why, man, she talked of show- 
ing me her work above stairs, and I am 
to approve the pattern. 

Hast. But how can you, Charles, go» 
about to rob a woman of her honour ? 

Marl. Pshaw ! phaw ! We all know 
the honour of the barmaid of an inn. I 
don't intend to rob her, take my word for 
it ; there's nothing in this house 1 shan't 
honestly pay for. 

Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. 



84 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Marl. And if she has, I should be the 
last man in the world that would attempt 
to corrupt it. 

Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of 
the casket I sent vou to lock up. It's in 
safety ? 

Marl. Yes, yes ; it's safe enough. I 
have taken care of it. But how could you 
think the seat of a post-coach at an inn- 
door a place of safety ? Ah ! numskull ! 
I have taken better precautions for you 
than vou did for yourself. — I have 

Hast. What ? 

Marl. I have sent it to the landlady to 
keep for vou. 

Hast. "To the landlady ! 

Marl. The landlady. 

Hast. You did ! 

Marl. I did. She's to be answerable 
for its forthcoming, you know. 

Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a 
witness. 

Marl. Wasn't I right ? I believe you'll 
allow that I acted prudently upon this 
occasion ? 

Hast. (Aside.) He must not see my 
uneasiness. 

Mali. You seem a little disconcerted 
though, methinks. Sure nothing has 
happened ? 

Hast. No, nothing. Never was in 
better spirits in all my life. And so vou 
left it with the landladv, who, no doubt 
verv readily undertook the charge ? 

Marl. Rather too readily ; for she not 
only kept the casket, but," through her 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 85 



great precaution, was going to keep the 
messenger too. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Hast. He ! he ! he ! They're safe, 
however. 

Marl. As a guinea in a miser's purse. 

Hast. {Aside.) So now all hopes of 
fortune are at an end, and we must set 
off without it. {To him.) Well. Charles, 
I'll leave you to your meditations on the 
pretty barmaid, and, he ! he ! he ! may 
you be as successful for yourself as you 
have been for me ! [Exit. 

Marl. Thank ye, George : I ask no 
more. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Enter Hardcastle. 

Hard. I no longer know my own 
house. It's turned all topsy-turvy. His 
servants have got drunk already. I'll 
bear it no longer ; and yet, from my re- 
spect for his "father, I'll be calm. ( To 
In 111.) Mr. Marlow, your servant. I'm 
your very humble servant. ( Bowing tow. ) 

Marl. Sir, your humble servant. 
{Aside. ) What's to be the wonder now ? 

Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sen- 
sible, Sir, that no man alive ought to be 
more welcome than your father's son, 
sir. I hope you think "so ? 

Marl. I do, from my soul, Sir. I don't 
want much entreaty. I generally make 
my father's son welcome wherever he 
goes. 

Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, 
Sir. But though Isay nothing to your 
own conduct, that of your servants is in- 



TOOPS TO CONQUER. 



sufferable. Their manner of drinking is 
setting a very bad example in this house, 
I assure you. 

Marl. I protest, my very good Sir, that 
is no fault of mine. If they don't drink 
as they ought, they are to blame. I or- 
dered them not to spare the cellar. I did, 
I assure you. I To the side scene, i Here, 
let one of my servants come up. {To 
Hard, i My p< >sitive directions were, that, 
as I did not drink myself, they should 
make up for my deficiencies below. 

Hard. Then they had your orders for 
what they do ! I'm satisfied ! 

Marl. They had, I assure you. You 
shall hear from one of themselves. 

Enter Servant, drunk. 

Marl. You, Jeremy ! Come forward, 
sirrah ! What were my orders ? Were 
you not told to drink freely, and call for 
what you thought fit, for the good of the 
house ? 

Hard. (Aside.) I begin to lose my 
patience ! 

Jeremy. Please your honour, liberty 
and Fleet-Street forever! Though I'm 
but a servant, I'm as good as another 
man. I'll drink for no man before sup- 
per. Sir, dammy ! Good liquor will sit 
upon a good supper, but a good supper 

will not sit upon hiccup upon my 

conscience, Sir. [Exit. 

Marl. You see, my old friend, the fel- 
low is as drunk as he can possibly be. 
J don't know what you'd have more, un- 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 87 



less you'd have the poor devil soused in 
a beer-barrel. 

Hard. Zounds, he'll drive me dis- 
tracted, if I contain myself any longer! 
Mr. Marlow : Sir, I have submitted to 
your insolence for more than four hours, 
and I see no likelihood of its coming to 
an end. I'm now resolved to be master 
here, Sir, and I desire that you and your 
drunken pack may leave my house 
directly. 

Marl. Leave your house ! — Sure you 
jest, my good friend ! What ! when I'm 
doing what I can to please you ? 

Hard. I tell you, Sir, you don't please 
me ; so I desire you'd leave my house. 
• Mad. Sure you cannot be serious ? 
at this time o' night, and such a night! 
You only mean to banter me. 

Hard. I tell you, Sir, I'm serious! 
And now that my passions are roused, I 
say this house is mine, Sir ; this house is 
mine, and I command you to leave it 
directly ! 

Mart. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A puddle in a 
storm. I shan't stir a step, I assure you. 
{hi a serious tone.) This house, fellow ! 
It's my house. This is my house. Mine 
while I choose to stay. What right have 
you to bid me leave" this house. Sir ? I 
never met' with such imnudence, curse 
me ; never in my whole life before. 

Hard. Nor I, confound me if ever I 
did ! To come to my house, to call for 
what he likes, to turn' me out of my own 
chair, to insult the family, to order his 




THEN THERE'S A MAHOGANY TABLE THAT 
YOU MAY SEE YOUR OWN FACE IN." 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. St/, 



servants to get drunk, and then to tell 
me, " This house is mine, Sir ! " By all 
that's impudent, it makes me laugh. Ha I 
ha! ha! Pray, Sir, (bantering) as you 
take the house, what think you of taking 
the rest of the furniture ? There's a pair 
of silver candlesticks, and there's a fire- 
screen, and here's a pair of brazen-nosed 
bellows, perhaps you may take a fancy 
to them ? 

Marl. Bring me your bill, Sir ; bring 
me your bill, and let's make no more 
words about it. 

Hard. There are a set of prints, too. 
What think you of the Rake's Progress, for 
your own apartment ? 

Marl. Bring me your bill, I say ; and 
I'll leave you and your infernal house 
directly. 

Hard. Then there's a mahogany table 
that you may see your own face in. 

Marl. My bill, I say. 

Hard. I had forgot "the great chair, for 
your own particular slumbers, after a 
hearty meal. 

Marl. Zounds ! bring me my bill, I say r 
and let's hear no more on't. 

Hard. Young man, young man, from 
your father's letter to me, I was taught to 
exnect a well-bred, modest man as a vis- 
itor here, but now I find him no better 
than a coxcomb and a bully ; but he will 
be down here presently, and shall hear 
more of it. [Exit. 

Marl. How's this! Sure I have not 
mistaken the house Every thing looks 



■90 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

like an inn ; the servants cry, " Coining " ; 
the attendance is awkward ; the bar- 
maid, too, to attend us. But she's here, 
and will farther inform me. Whither so 

last, child ? A word with you. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle. 

Miss Hd nl. Let it be short then. I'm 
in a hurry. (Aside. \ I believe he begins 
to find out his mistake. But it's too soon 
quite to undeceive him. 

Marl. Pray, child, answer me one 
question. What are you, and what may 
your business in this house be ? 

Miss Hani. A relation of the family, Sir. 

Marl. What, a poor relation ? 

Miss Hard. Yes, Sir ; a poor relation, 
appointed to keep the keys, and to see 
that the guests want nothing in my 
power to give them. 

Marl. That is, you act as the barmaid 
of this inn. 

Miss Hard. Inn ! O law ! What 

brought that into your head ? One of 
the best families in the county keep an 
inn ! — Ha ! ha ! ha! old Mr. Hardcastle's 
house an inn ! 

Marl. Mr. Hardcastle's house ! Is this 
Mr. Hardcastle's house, child ? 

Miss Hard. Ay, sure. Whose else 
should it be ? 

Marl. So then, all's out, and I have 
been damnably imposed on. Oh, con- 
found my stupid head, I shall be laughed 
at over the whole town ! I shall be stuck 
up in caricature in all the print-shops — 



STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



The Dullissimo-Macaroni. To mistake 
this house of all others for an inn, and 
my father's old friend for an innkeeper! 
What a swaggering puppy must he take 
me for ! What a silly puppy do I find 
myself ! There, again, may I be hang'd, 
my dear, but I mistook you for the bar- 
maid. 

Miss Hard. Dear me ! dear me ! I'm 
sure there's nothing in my behaviour to 
put me upon a level with one of that 
stamp. 

Marl. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But 
I was in for a list of blunders, and could 
not help making you a subscriber. My 
stupidity saw every thing the wrong way, 
I mistook your assiduity for assurance, 
and your simplicity for allurement. But 
it's over — this house I no more show my 
face in. 

Miss Hard I hope, Sir, I have done 
nothing to disoblige you. I'm sure I 
should'be sorrv to affront any gentleman 
who has been so polite, and said so many 
civil things to me. I'm sure I should be 
sorrv {pretending to cry) if he left the 
family upon my account. I'm sure I 
should be sorry people said any thing 
amiss, since I have no fortune but my 
character. 

Marl. ( Aside.) By Heaven ! she weeps. 
This is the first mark of tenderness I ever 
had from a modest woman, and it touches 
me. ( To her. ) Excuse me, my lovely 
girl ; you are the only part of the family 
I leave with reluctance. But, to be plain 



i 



■.■■■ 









■V 



1 

.* 




w, 



" by heaven! she weeps." 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 93 



with you, the difference of our birth, 
fortune, and education, make an honour- 
able connection impossible ; and I can 
never harbour a thought of seducing 
simplicity that trusted in my honour, of 
bringing ruin upon one, whose only fault 
was being too lovely. 

Miss Hard. (Aside.) Generous man! 
I now begin to admire him. (To him.) 
But I am sure my family is as good as 
Miss Hardcastle's ; and though I'm poor, 
that's no great misfortune to a contented 
mind ; and until this moment, I never 
thought that it was bad to want fortune. 

Marl. And why now, my pretty sim- 
plicity ? 

Miss Hard. Because it puts me at a 
distance from one, that if I had a thou- 
sand pounds, I would give it all to. 

Marl. (Aside.) This simplicity be- 
witches me so, that if I stay I'm undone. 
I must make one bold effort, and leave 
her. (To her.) Your partiality in my 
favour, my dear, touches me most sen- 
sibly ; and were I to live for myself 
alone, I could easily fix my choice. But 
I owe too ' much to the opinion of the 
world, too much to the authority of a 
father ; so that — I can scarcely speak 
it — it affects me. — Farewell. " [Exit 

Miss Hard. I never knew half his 
merit till now. He shall not go, if I have 
power or art to detain him. I'll still pre- 
serve the character in which I stoop'd 
to conquer, but will undeceive my papa, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



who, perhaps, may laugh him out of his 
resolution. [Exit 

Enter Toxy and Miss Neville. 

Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves 
the next time. I have done" my duty. 
She has got the jewels again, that's a sure 
thing ; but she believes it was all a mis- 
take of the servants. 

Miss A/tv. But, my dear cousin, sure 
you won't forsake us in this distress ? If 
she in the least suspects that I am going 
off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent 
to my aunt Pedigree's, which is ten times 
worse. 

Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds 
are damned bad things. But what can I 
do ? I have got you a pair of horses that 
will fly like Whistle-jacket ; and I'm sure 
you can't say but I" have courted you 
nicely before her face. Here she comes. 
We must court a bit or two more, for fear 
she should suspect us. (They retire, and 
seem to fondle. ) 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle. 

Mrs. Hard. Well, I was greatly flut- 
tered, to be sure. But my son tells me 
it was all a mistake of the servants. I 
shan't be easy, however, till they are 
fairly married," and then let her keep her 
own fortune. But what do I see ? fond- 
ling together, as I'm alive. I never saw 
Tony so sprightly before. Ah ! have I 
caught you, my pretty doves ? What, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



billing, exchanging stolen glances and 
broken murmurs ? Ah ! 

Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we 
grumble a little now and then, to be 
sure ; but there's no love lost between us. 

Mrs. Hard. A mere sprinkling, Tony, 
upon the flame, only to make "it burn 
brighter. 

Miss Nev. Cousin Tony promises to- 
give us more of his company at home. 
Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It 
won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it ? 

Tony. O ! it's a pretty creature. Xo,. 
I'd sooner leave my horse in a pound, 
than leave you when you smile upon one 
so. Your laugh makes you so becoming. 

Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin ! Who 
can help admiring that natural humour, 
that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless,. 
(patting his cheek)— ah ! it's a bold face ! 

Mrs. Hani. Pretty innocence ! 

Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin 
Con's hazel eves, and her pret y long 
fingers, that she twists this way and that 
over the haspicholls, like a "parcel of 
bobbins. 

Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he would charm the 
bird from the tree. I was never so happy 
before. My boy takes after his father, 
poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, 
my dear Con, shall be yours inconti- 
nently. You shall have them. Isn't he 
a sweet boy, my dear ? You shall be 
married to-morrow, and we'll put off the 
rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy's 
sermons, to a titter opportunity. 



^6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Enter DlGGORY. 

Dig. Where's the Squire ? I have got 
a letter for your worship. 

Tony. Give it to my mamma. She 
reads all my letters first. 

Dig. I had orders to deliver it into 
your own hands. 

Tony. Who does it come from ? 

Dig. Your worship rami ask that o' the 
letter itself. 

Tony. I could wish to know though, 
{turning the letter, ami gazing on it.) 

Miss Nev. {Aside.) Undone! undone! 
A letter to him from Hasting : I know 
the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are 
ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed 
a little, if I can. {To Mrs. Haracastte.) 
But I have not told you, Madam, of my 
•cousin's smart answer just 1 ow to Mr. 
Marlow. We so laugh'd — You must 
know. Madam — This way a little, for he 
must not hear us. (They confer. ) 

Tony, i Still gazing. I A damn'd cramp 
piece' of penmanship, as ever I saw in 
my life. I can read your print hand very 
well ; but here there are such handles, 
and shanks, and dashes, that one can 
scarce tell the head from the tail. " To 
Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire." It's very 
-odd, I can read the outside of my letters, 
where my own name is, well enough. 

But when I come to open it, it's all 

buzz. That's hard — very hard ; for the 
inside of the letter is always the cream 
of the correspondence. 



TOO PS TO CONQUER. 97 



Mrs. Hard. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, 
very well. And so my son was too hard 
for the philosopher ? 

MissNev. Yes, Madam ; but you must 
hear the rest, Madam. A little more this 
way, or he may hear us. You'll hear 
how he puzzled him again. 

Mrs. Hard. He seems strangely 
puzzled now himself, methinks. 

Tony. {Still gazing.) A damned up and 
down hand, as if it was disguised in 
liquor. (Reading.) "Dear sir," — Ay, 
that's that. Then there's an M, and a T, 
and an S, but whether the next be an 
iz/.ard or an R, confound me, I cannot 
tell! 

Mrs. Hard. What's that, my dear ; can 
I give you any assistance ? 

MissNev. "Pray, aunt, let me read it. 
Nobody reads a cramp hand better than 
I. [Twitching the letter from him.) Do 
you know who it is from ? 

Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick 
Ginger, the feeder. 

MissNev. Ay, so it is, {pretending to 
read, i Dear Squire, hoping that you're 
in health, as I am at this present. The 
gentlemen of the Shake-bag Club has 
cut the gentlemen of the Goose Green 

quite out of feather. The odds urn 

odd battle— urn- long fighting — urn 

— here, here, it's a'l about cocks and fight- 
ing ; it's of no consequence — here, put it 
up, put it up. ( Trusting the crumpled 
letter upon him.) 

Tony. But I tell you, miss, it's of all 
7 







\ 



, 



(" AV, SO IT IS" PRETENDING TO READ). 



Q S 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 99 

the consequence in the world. I would 
not lose the rest of it for a guinea. 
Here, mother, do you make it out. Of 
no consequence ! 

[Giving Mrs. Hardcastle the letter. 

Mrs. Hard. How's this ! {rends,) 
" Dear Squire, I'm now waiting for Miss 
Neville, with a postchaise and pair, at 
the bottom of the garden, but I find my 
horses yet unable to perform the journey. 
I expect you'll assist us with a pair of 
fresh horses, as you promised. Despatch 
is necessary, as the hag" — ay, the hag — 
" your mother, will otherwise suspect us. 
Yours, Hastings." Grant me patience : I 
shall run distracted ! My rage chokes 
me ! 

Miss Nev. I hope, Madam, you'll sus- 
pend your resentment for a few moments, 
and not impute to me any impertinence 
or sinister design that belongs to another. 

Mrs. Hard. (Curtsying very low.) Fine 
spoken, Madam, you are most miracu- 
lously polite and engaging, and quite the 
very pink of courtesy and circumspection, 
Madam. (Changing her tone.) And you, 
you great ill-fashioned oaf, with scarce 
sense enough to keep your mouth shut, — 
were you, too, joined against me ? But 
I'll defeat all your plots in a moment. As 
for you, Madam, since you have got a 
pair of fresh horses ready, it would be 
cruel to disappoint them". So, if you 
please, instead of running away with 
your spark, prepare, this very moment, 
to run off with me. Your old aunt Pedi- 



■SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



gree will keep you secure, I'll warrant 
me. You too, Sir, may mount your horse 
and guard us upon the way. — Here, 
Thomas, Roger, Diggory !— I'll show you, 
that I wish you better than you do your- 
selves. [Exit. 

Miss Nev. So now I'm completely 
ruined. 

Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing. 

Miss Nev. What better could be ex- 
pected, from being connected with such 
a stupid fool — and after all the nods and 
signs I made him. 

louy. By the laws, miss, it was your 
own cleverness, and not my stupidity, 
that did your business ! You were s : o 
nice and so busy with your Shake-bags 
and Goose-Greens, that I thought you 
could never be making believe. 

Enter Hastings. 

Hast. So, Sir, I find by my servant, 
that you have shown my letter, and be- 
trayed us. Was this well done, young 
gentleman ? 

Tony. Here's another ! Ask miss, 
there, who betrayed you. Ecod ! it was 
her doing, not mine. 

Enter Marlow. 

Marl. So, I have been finely used here 
among you. Rendered contemptible, 
driven into ill manners, despised, in- 
sulted, laughed at. 

Tony. Here's another ! We shall have 
old Bedlam broke loose presently. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. IOI 

Miss Nev. And there, Sir, is the gentle- 
man to whom we all owe every obliga- 
tion. 

Marl. What can I say to him, a mere 
boy, an idiot, whose ignorance and age 
are a protection ? 

Hast. A poor contemptible boob}', that 
would but disgrace correction. 

Miss Nev. Yet with cunning and mal- 
ice enough to make himself merry with 
all our embarrassments. 

Hast An insensible cub. 

Marl. Replete with tricks and mischief. 

Tony. Baw ! damme, but I'll fight you 
both, bne after the other, with baskets. 

Marl. As for him, he's below resent- 
ment. But your conduct, Mr. Hastings, 
requires an exrlanation : You knew of 
mv mistakes, yet would not undeceive me. 

Hast Tortured as I am with my own 
disappointments, is this a time for expla- 
nations ? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow. 

Marl. But, Sir 

Miss Nev. Mr. Marlow, we never kept 
on your mistake, till it was too late to un- 
deceive you. Be pacified. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. My mistress desires you'll get 
readv immediately, Madam. The horses 
are putting to. Your hat and things are 
in the next room, We are to go thirty 
miles before morning. [Exit Servant. 

Miss Nev. Well, well, I'll come pres- 
ently. 

Marl. {To Hastings.) Was it well 



102 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

done, Sir, to assist in rendering me ridic- 
ulous ?— To hang me out for the scorn of 
all my acquaintance ? Depend upon it, 
Sir, I shall expect an explanation. 

Hast. Was it well done, Sir, if you're 
upon that subject, to deliver what I en- 
trusted to yourself, to the care of another, 
Sir. 

MissNev. Mr. Hastings ! Mr. Marlow! 
Why will you increase my distress by 
this "groundless dispute? I implore — I 
entreat you 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Your cloak, Madam. My mis- 
tress is impatient. [Exit Servant. 

Mss Nev. I come. Pray, be pacified. 
If I leave you thus, I shall die with ap- 
prehension. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Your fan, muff, and gloves, 
Madam. The horses are waiting. 

[Exit Servant. 

Miss Nev. O, Mr. Marlow ! if y. >u knew 
what a scene of constraint and ill-nature 
lies before me, I am sure it would con- 
vert your resentment into pity ! 

Marl. I'm so distracted with a variety 
of passions, that I don't know what I do. 
Forgive me, Madam. George, forgive 
me. You know my hasty temper, and 
should not exasperate it. 

Has?. The torture of my situation is 
my only excuse. 

Miss Nev. Well, my dear Hastings, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 103 

if you have that esteem for me that I 
think — that I am sure you have, your con- 
stancy for three years will but increase 
the happiness of our future connection. 
If 

Mrs. Hard. {Within.) Miss Neville- 
Constance, why Constance, I say ! 

Miss Nev. I'm coming ! Well, con- 
stancy ; remember, constancy is the 
word. [Exit. 

Hast. My heart ! how can I support 
this ? To be so near happiness, and such 
happiness ! 

Marl. (To Tony.) You see now, young 
gentleman, the effects of your folly. 
What might be amusement to you, is 
here disappointment, and even distress. 

Tony. (From a reverie.) E cod, I have 
hit it": it's here ! Your hands. Yours, 
and yours, my poor Sulky. My boots 
there, ho! — Meet me, two hours hence, 
at the bottom of the garden ; and if you 
don't find Tony Lumpkin a more good- 
natured fellow than you thought for, I'll 
give you leave to take my best horse, 
and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. 
Come along. My boots, ho ! [Exeunt 

ACT V. 

Scene continues. 
Enter Hastings and Servant. 
Hast. You saw the old lady and Miss 
Neville drive off, you say ? 
Scrv. Yes, your honour. They went 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



off in a post-coach, and the young squire 
went on horseback. They're thirty miles 
off by this time. 

Hast. Then all my hopes are over ! 

Sen: Yes, Sir. "Old Sir Charles is 
arrived. He and the old gentleman of 
the house have been laughing at Mr. 
Marlow's mistake this half hour. They 
are coming this way. [Exit. 

Hast. Then I must not be seen. So 
now to my fruitless appointment at the 
bottom of the garden. This is about the 
time. [Exit. 

Enter Sir Charles Marlow and Hard- 
castle. 

Hant. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory 
tone in which he sent forth his sublime 
commands. 

Sir CJias. And the reserve with which 
I suppose he treated all your advances. 

Hard. And yet he might have seen 
something in me above a common inn- 
keeper, too. 

Sir Clias. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you 
for an uncommon inn-keeper ; ha ! haha ! 

Hard. Well, I'min too good spirits to 
think ot any thing but joy. Yes, my dear 
friend, this union of" our families will 
make our personal friendships heredi- 
tary ; and though my daughter's fortune 
is but small 

SirCIias. Why, Dick, will you talk of 
fortune to me ? My son is possessed of 
more than a competence alreadv, and can 
want nothing but a good and virtuous girl 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 105 

to share his happiness and increase it. If 
they like each other, as you say they 
do- 

Hard. If, man ! I tell you they do 
like each other. My daughter as good 
as told me so. 

Sir Chas. But girls are apt to flatter 
themselves, you know. 

Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in 
the warmest manner myself ; and here 
he comes to put you out of your ifs, I 
warrant him. 

Enter Marlow. 

Marl. I come, Sir, once more, to ask 
pardon for my strange conduct. I can 
scarce reflect on my insolence without 
confusion. 

Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it 
too gravely. An hour or two's laughing 
with my daughter will set all to rights 
again. She'll never like you the worse 
for it. 

Marl. Sir, I shall be always proud of 
her approbation. 

Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, 
Mr, Marlow ; if I am not deceived, you 
have something more than approbation 
thereabouts. You take me ? 

Marl. Really, Sir, I have not that hap- 
piness. 

Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, 
and know what's what as well as you that 
are younger. I know what has past be- 
tween you ; but, mum ! 



Io6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 



Marl. Sure, Sir, nothing has past be- 
tween us but the most profound respect 
on my side, and the most distant reserve 
on hers. You don't think, Sir, that my 
impudence has been past upon all the 
rest of the family ? 

Hard. Impudence ! No, I don't say 
that — not quite impudence — though girls 
like to be played with, and rumpled a 
little, too, sometimes. But she has told 
no tales, I assure you. 

Marl. I never' gave her the slightest 
cause. 

Hard. Well, well, I like modesty in its 
place well enough ; but this is over-act- 
ing, young gentleman. You may be 
open. Your father and I will like you 
the better for it, 

Marl. May I die, Sir, if I ever 

Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you ; 
and as I'm sure you like her 

Marl Dear Sir — I protest, Sir 

Hard. I see no reason why you should 
not be joined as fast as the" parson can 
tie you." 

Marl. But hear me, Sir 

Hard. Your father approves the 
match, I admire it ; every moment's de- 
lay will be doing mischief, so 

Marl. But why won't you hear me ? 
By all that's just and true", I never gave 
Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my 
attachment, or even the most distant hint 
to suspect me of affection. We had but 
one interview, and that was formal, 
modest, and uninteresting. 



STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



Hard. [Aside.) . This fellow's formal, 
modest impudence is beyond bearing. 

Sir Chas. And you never grasped her 
hand, or made any protestations ? 

Mail. As Heaven is my witness ! I 
came down in obedience to your com- 
mands ; I saw the lady without emotion, 
and parted without reluctance. I hope 
you'll exact no further proofs of my duty, 
nor prevent me from leaving a house in 
which I surfer so many mortifications. 

{Exit 

Sir Chas. I'm astonished at the air of 
sincerity with which he parted. 

Hard. And I'm astonished at the delib- 
erate intrepidity of his assurance. 

Sir Chas. I dare pledge my life and 
honour upon his truth. 

Hard. Here comes my daughter, and 
I would stake my happiness "upon her 
veracity. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle. 

Hard. Kate, come hither, child. An- 
swer us sincerely, and without reserve. 
Has Mr. Marlow made you any profes- 
sions of love and affection ? 

Miss Hard. The question is very 
abrupt, Sir ! But since you require un- 
reserved sincerity — I think he has. 

Hard, (To Sir Charles.) You see. 

Sir Chas. And pray, Madam, have you 
and my son had more than one interview ? 

Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, several. 

Hard. {To Sir Charles.) You see. 



HE STOOPS TO CUNIIUEK. 



Sir Chas. But did he profess any at- 
tachment ? 

Miss Hard. A lasting one. 

Sir Chas. Did he talk of love ? 

Miss Haul. Much, Sir. 

Sir CJias. Amazing ! And all this 
formally ? 

Miss Hani. Formally. 

Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you 
are satisfied. 

Sir Chas. And how did he behave, 
Madam ? 

Miss Hard. As most protest admirers 
do : said some civil things of my face , 
talked much of his want of merit, and the 
greatness of mine ; mentioned his heart, 
gave a short tragedy speech, and ended 
with pretended rapture. 

Sir Chas. Now I'm perfectlv con- 
vinced, indeed. I know his conversation 
among women to be modest and sub- 
missive. This forward, canting, ranting 
manner by no means describes him, and I 
am confident, he never sat for the picture. 

Miss Hard. Then, what. Sir, if I should 
convince you to your face of my sinceriiv ? 
If you and my papa, in about half an hour, 
will place vourselves behind that screen, 
you shall hear him declare his passion to 
me in person. 

SirChas. Agreed. And if I find him 
what you describe, all my happiness in 
him must have an end. [Exit. 

Miss Haid. And if vou don't find him 
what I describe, I fear my happiness 
must never have a beginning. [Exeunt. 



OOPS TO CONQU 



Scene cha nges to the Back of the Garden. 
Enter Hastings. 

Hast. What an idiot am I to wait here 
for a fellow who probably takes a delight 
in mortifying me. He never intended to 
be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. 
What do I see ? It is he ! and perhaps 
with news of my Constance. 

Enter Tow, booted and spattered. 

Hast. My honest Squire ! I now find 
you a man of your word. This looks like 
friendship. 

Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best 
friend you have in the world, if you knew 
but all. This riding by night, by the bye, 
is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me 
worse than the basket of a stage-coach. 

Hast. But how ? Where did you leave 
your fellow-travellers ? Are they in 
safety ? Are they housed ? 

Tony. Five and twenty mi'es in two 
hours and a half is no such bad driving. 
The poor beasts have smoked for it: 
Rabbit me ! but I'd rather ride forty miles 
altera fox, than ten with such varmint. 

Hast. Well, but where have you left 
the ladies ? I die with impatience. 

Tony. Left them ! Why, where should 
I leave them but where I found them ? 

Hast. This is a riddle. 

Tony Riddle me this, then. What's 
that goes round the house, and round the 
house, and never touches the house ? 



110 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Hast. I'm still astray. 

Tony. Why, that's it," raon. I have led 
them "astray. By jingo, there's not a 
pond or a, slough within hve miles of the 
place but they can tell the taste of. 

Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I understand : 
you took them in a round, while they 
supposed themselves going forward ; 
and so you have at last brought them 
home again. 

Tody. You shall hear. I first took 
them down Feather-bed Lane, where we 
stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled 
them crack over the stones of Up-and- 
down Hill. I then introduced them to 
the gibbet on Heavy-tree Heath ; and 
from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly 
lodged them in the horse-pond at the 
bottom of the garden. 

Hast. But no accident, I hope ? 

Tony. No, no ; only mother is con- 
foundedly frightened. " She thinks her- 
self forty miles off. She's sick of the 
journey ; and the cattle can scare crawl. 
So, if your own horses be ready, you may 
whip "off with cousin, and I'll be bound 
that no soul here can budge a foot to 
follow you. 

Hast. My dear friend, how can I be 
grateful ? 

Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend ! noble 
Squire ! Just now, it was all idiot, cub, 
and run me through the guts. Damn 
your way of righting. I say. After we 
"take a knock in this part of the country, 
we kiss and be friends. But if you had 



STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



run me through the guts, then I should 
be dead, and you might go and kiss the 
hangman. 

Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must 
hasten to relieve Miss "Neville. If you 
keep the old lady employed, I promise 
to take care of the young one. 

c [Exit Hastings. 

Tony. Never fear me. Here she 
comes. Vanish ! She's got from the 
pond, and draggled up to the waist like 
a mermaid. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle. 

Mrs. Hani. Oh, Tony, I'm killed! 
Shook ! battered to death ! I shall never 
survive it. That last jolt, that laid us 
against the quickset hedge, has done my 
business. 

Tony. Alack, mamma ! It was all your 
own fault. You would be for running 
away by night, without knowing one 
inch of the way. 

Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home 
again. I never met so many accidents 
in so short a journey. Drenched in the 
mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in 
a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to 
lose our way ! Whereabouts do you 
think we are, Tony ? 

Tony. By my guess, we should be upon 
Crackskull Common, about forty miles 
from home. 

Mrs. Hard. O lud ! O lud ! the most 
notorious spot in all the country ! We 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



only want a robbery to make a complete 
night on't. 

Tony.. Don't be afraid, mamma ; don't 
be afraid. Two of the rive that kept here 
are hanged, and the other three may not 
find us. Don't be afraid. — Is that a'man 
that's galloping behind us ? Xo, it's only 
a tree. — Don't be afraid. 

Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly 
kill me. 

Tony. Do you see any thing like a 
black "hat moving behind the thicket ? 

Mrs. Hard. Oh, death ! 

Tony. No ; it's only a cow. Don't be 
afraid, mamma ; don't be afraid. 

Mrs. Hard. As I'm alive, Tony, I see 
a man coming towards us. Ah ! I'm 
sure on't. If he perceives us, we are 
undone. 

Tony. {Aside.) Father-in-law, by- all 
that's unlucky, come to take one of his 
night walks. " I To her.) Ah ! it's a high- 
wayman with pistols as long as my arm. 
A damn'd ill-looking fellow ! 

Mrs. Hard. Good Heaven defend us ! 
He approaches. 

Tony. Do you hide yourself in that 
thicket, and leave me to manage him. 
If there be any danger, I'll cough, and 
cry hem. When I "cough, be sure to 
keep close. 

[Mrs. Hardcastle hides behind a lire 
in I lie back see ue. 

Enter Hardcastle. 

Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices 



STOOPS TO CON 



of people in want of help. Oh, Tony, is 
that you ? 1 did not expect you so soon 
back. Are your mother and her charge 
in safety ? 

Tony. Very safe, Sir, at my aunt Pedi- 
gree's. Hem. 

Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah, 
death ! I rind there's danger. 

Hard. Forty miles in three hours ; 
sure that's too much, my youngster. 

Tony. Stout horses and willing minds 
make short journeys, as they say. Hem. 

Mrs. Hard, {From behind.) Sure, 
he'll do the dear boy no harm. 

Hard. But I heard a voice here ; I 
should be glad to know from whence it 
came. 

Tony. It was I, Sir, talking to myself, 
Sir. "I was saying that forty miles in four 
hours was very good going. Hem. As 
to be sure it was. Hem. I have got a 
sort of cold by being out in the air. 
We'll go in, if you please. Hem. 

Hard. But if you talked to yourself, 
you did not answer yourself. I'm cer- 
tain I heard two voices, and am resolved 
(raising his voice) to find the other out. 

Mrs. Hard. {From behind.) Oh ! he's 
coming to find me out. Oh ! 

Tony. What need you go, Sir, if I tell 
you? Hem. I'll lav" down my life for 
the truth— hem— I'll tell you" all, Sir. 
{Detaining him.) 

Hard. I tell you I will not be detained. 
I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect 
I'll believe you. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Mrs. Hard. (Running forward from be- 
hind.) O lud ! he'll murder my poor 
boy, my darling ! Here, good "gentle- 
man, whet your rage upon me. Take 
my money, my life, but spare that young 
gentleman ; spare my chid, if you have 
any mercy ! 

Hard. My wife, as I'm a Christian. 
From whence can she come, or what 
does she mean ? 

Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take com- 
passion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. 
Take our money, our watches, all we 
have, but spare our lives. We will never 
bring you to justice ; indeed we won't, 
good Mr. Highwayman. 

Hard. I believe the woman's out of 
her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you 
know me ? 

Mrs. Hard. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm 
alive ! My fears blinded me. But who, 
my dear, "could have expected to meet 
you here, in this frightful place, so far 
from home. What has brought you to 
follow us ? 

Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not 
lost your wits ! So far from home, when 
you are within forty yards of your own 
door! (To him.) This is one of your 
old tricks, you graceless rogue, you. " ( To 
her.) Don't you know the gate and the 
mulberry tree ? and don't you remember 
the horsepond, my dear ? 

Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the 
horsenond as long as I live ; I have 
caught my death in 'it. (ToToxy.) And 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe 
all this ? Ill teach you to abuse your 
mother — I will. 

Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says 
you have spoiled me, and so you may 
take the fruits on't. 

Mrs. Hard. I'll spoil you. I will. 

[Follows him off the stage. 

Hard. There's morality, however, in 
his reply. [Exit. 

Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 

Hast. My dear Constance, why will 
you deliberate thus ? If we delay a mo- 
ment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a 
little resolution, and we shall soon be out 
of the reach of her malignity. 

Miss Nev. I find it impossible. My 
spirits are so sunk with the agitations "I 
have suffered, that I am unable to face 
any new danger. Two or three years' 
patience will at last crown us with hap- 
piness. 

Hast. Such a tedious delay is worse 
than inconstancy. Let us fly, my charm- 
er ! Let us date our happiness from this 
very moment. Perish fortune ! Love 
and content will increase what we 
possess beyond a monarch's revenue. 
Let me prevail ! 

Miss Nev. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Pru- 
dence once more comes to my relief, and 
I will obey its dictates. In the moment 
of passion, fortune may be despised, but 
it ever produces a lasting repentance. 



1 1 6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's 
compassion and justice for redress. 

Hast. But though he had the will, he 
has not the power, to relieve you. 

Miss Nev. But he has influence, and 
upon that I am resolved to rely. 

Hast. I have no hopes. But since you 
persist, I must reluctantly obey you. 

[Exeunt 
Scene changes. 

[scene iii.— a room in mr. hard- 
castle's house.] 

Enter Sir Charles Marlow and Miss 
Hardcastle. 

Sir Chart. What a situation am I in ! 
If what you say appears, I shall then 
find a guilty son. If what he says be 
true, I "shall then lose one that, of all 
others, I most wished for a daughter. 

Miss Hard. I am proud of your appro- 
bation ; and to show I merit it, if you 
place yourselves as I directed, you shall 
hear his explicit declaration. But he 
comes. 

SirCtiari. I'll to your father, and keep 
him to the appointment. 

[Exit Sir Charles. 

Enter Marlow. 

Marl. Though prepared for setting 
out, I come once more to take leave ; nor 
did I, till this moment, know the pain I 
feel in the separation. 

Miss Hani. [In tier own natural man- 



TOOPS TO CONQUER, 



ner.) I believe these sufferings cannot 
be very great, Sir, which you can so- 
easily remove. A day or two longer, 
perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, 
by showing the little value of what you 
now think proper to regret. 

Marl. [Aside.) This girl every mo- 
ment improves upon me. [To her.) It 
must not be, Madam ; I have already 
trifled too long with my heart. My very 
pride begins to submit to my passion. 
The disparity cf education and fortune, 
the anger of a parent, and the contempt 
of my equals, begin to lose their weight ; 
and nothing can restore me to myself 
but this painful effort of resolution. 

Miss Hard. Then go, Sir; 111 urge 
nothing more to detain you. Though 
my family be as good as hers you came 
down to visit, and my education, I hope, 
not inferior, what are these advantages 
without equal affluence ? I must remain 
contented with the slight approbation < f 
imputed merit ; I must have only the 
mockery of your addresses, while all 
your serious aims are fixed on fortune. 

Enter Hardcastle and Sir Charles. 
Marlow, from behind. 

Sir Char!. Here, behind this screen. 

Hard. Ay, ay ; make no noise. I'll 
engage my Kate covers him with con- 
fusion at last. 

Marl. By heavens ! Madam, fortune 
was ever my smallest consideration. 
Your beauty at first caught my eyes ; for 



IlS SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



who could see that without emotion ? 
But every moment that I converse with 
you steals in some new grace, heightens 
the picture, and gives it stronger expres- 
sion. What at first seemed rustic plain- 
ness, now appears refined simplicity; 
what seemed forward assurance, now 
strikes me as the result of courageous in- 
nocence and conscious virtue. 

Sir Chart. What can it mean ? He 
amazes me ! 

Hard. I told vou how it would be. 
Hush! 

Marl. I am now determined to stay, 
Madam, and I have too good an opinion 
of my father's discernment, when he sees 
you to doubt his approbation. 

Miss Hani Xo, Mr. Marlow, I will 
not, cannot detain you. Do you think I 
could suffer a connection in which there 
is the smallest room for repentance ? 
Do you think I would take the mean ad- 
vantage of a transient passion to load 
you with confusion ? Do you think I 
could ever relish that happiness which 
was acquired by lessening yours ? 

Marl. By all that's good, 1 can have 
no happiness but what's in your power 
to grant me ! Nor shall I ever feel re- 
pentance but in not having seen your 
merits before. I will stav even contrary 
to your wishes ; and though you should 
persist to shun me, I will make my re- 
spectful assiduities atone for the levity of 
my past conduct. 

Miss Hani. Sir, I must entreat vou'll 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 119 

desist. As our acquaintance began, so 
let it end, in indifference. I might have 
given an hour or two to levity ; but 
seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I 
could ever submit to a connection where 
/ must appear mercenary, and you im- 
prudent ? Do you think I could ever 
catch at the confident addresses of a 
secure admirer ? 

Marl. (Kneeling.) Does this look like 
security ? Does this look like confidence ? 
No, Madam, every moment that shows 
me your merit, only serves to increase 
my diffidence and confusion. Here let 
me continue 

Sir Chart. I can hold it no longer. 
Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived 
me ! Is this your indifference, your un- 
interesting conversation ? 

Hard. "Your cold contempt ! your 
formal interview ! What have you to 
sav now ? 

Marl. That I'm all amazement ! What 
can it mean ? 

Hard. It means that you can say and 
unsay things at pleasure : that you can 
address a lady in private, and deny it in 
public : that you have one story for us, 
and another for my daughter. 

Marl. Daughter ! — this lady your 
daughter ? 

Hard. Yes, Sir, my only daughter — 
mv Kate ; whose else "should she be ? 

Marl. Oh, the devil ! 

Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, that very iden- 
tical tall squinting lady you were pleased 




IS THIS YOUR INDIFFERENCE, YOUR UNINTEREST- 
ING CONVERSATION?" 



STOOPS TO CONQU 



to take me for (curtsying); she that you 
addressed as the mild,modest,sentimental 
man of gravity, and the bold, forward, 
agreeable Rattle of the Ladies' club. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Marl. Zounds ! there's no bearing 
this ; it's worse than death ! 

Miss Hani. In which of your char- 
acters, Sir, will you give us leave to ad- 
dress you ? As the faltering gentleman, 
with looks on the ground, that speaks 
just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy ; or 
the loud confident creature, that keeps it 
up with Mrs. Mantrap and old Miss 
Biddv Buckskin till three in the morning? 
—Ha! ha! ha! 

Marl. O, curse on my noisy head ! I 
never attempted to be impudent yet that 
I was not taken down ! I must be gone. 

Hard. By the hand of my body, but 
you shall not. I see it was all a mistake, 
and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall 
not, Sir, I tell you. I know she'll forgive 
you. Won't you forgive him, Kate ? 
We'll all forgive you Take courage, 
man. 

[TJicy retire, she tormenting him, to the 
back scene. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Toxy. 

Mrs. Hard. So, so, they're gone off. 
Let them go, I care not. 

Hard. Who gone ? 

Mrs. Hard. My dutiful niece and her 
gentleman, Mr. "Hastings, from town. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



He who came down with our modest 
visitor here. 

Sir Chart. Who, my honest George 
Hastings ? As worthy a fellow as lives, 
and the girl could not have made a more 
prudent choice. 

Hani. Then, by the hand of my body, 
I'm proud of the connection. 

Mrs. Hard. Well, if he has taken away 
the lady, he has not taken her fortune ; 
that remains in this family to console us 
for her loss. 

Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you would not 
be so mercenary ? 

Mrs. Hard. Ay, that's my affair, not 
yours. 

Hard. But, you know, if your son, 
when of age, refuses to marry His cousin, 
her whole fortune is then "at her own 
•disposal. 

Mrs. Hard. Ay, but he's not of age, 
and she has not 'thought proper to wait 
for his refusal. 

Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 

Mrs-. Hard. {Aside.) What, returned 
so soon ! I begin not to like it. 

Hast. ( To H ardcastle. ) For my late 
attempt to fly off with your niece, let my 
present confusion be' my punishment. 
We are now come back, to appeal from 
your justice to your humanity. By her 
father's consent' I first paid her my ad- 
dresses, and our passions were first 
founded in dutv. 

Miss Nev. Since his death, I have been 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



obliged to stoop to dissimulation to avoid 
oppression. In an hour of levity, I was 
ready even to give up my fortune to se- 
cure my choice : but I am now recovered 
from the delusion, and hope from your 
tenderness what is denied me from a 
nearer connection. 

Mrs. Hard. Pshaw, pshaw ! this is all 
but the whining end of a modern novel. 

Hard. Be it what it will, I'm glad 
they're come back to reclaim their due. 
Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse 
this lady s hand, whom I now offer you ? 

Tony. What signifies my refusing ? 
You know I can't refuse her till I'm of 
age, father. 

Hard. While I thought concealing 
your age, boy, was likely to conduce to 
your improvement, I concurred with 
your mother's desire to keep it secret. 
But since I find she turns it to a wrong 
use, I must now declare you have been of 
age these three months. 

Tony. Of age ! Am I of age, father ? 

Hard. Above three months. 

Tony. Then vou'll see the first use I'll 
make of my liberty. {Taking Miss Nev- 
ille's ha nd.) Witness all men by these 
presents, that I, Anthony Lumpkin, es- 
quire, of blank place, refuse you, Con- 
stantia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, 
for my true and lawful wife. So Con- 
stance Neville may marrv whom she 
pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his own 
man again. 

Sir. Chart. O brave Squire ! 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Hast My worthy friend ! 

Mrs. Hard. My undutiful offspring ! 

Marl. Joy, my dear George, I give yon 
joy sincerely ! And, could I prevail upon 
my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, 
I should be the happiest man alive—if 
you would return me the favor. 

Hast {To Miss Hakdcastle.) Come, 
Madam, you are not driven to the very 
last scene of all your contrivances. I 
know you like him, I'm sure he loves you, 
and you must and shall have him. 

Hani. [Joining their hands.) And I say 
so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes 
as good a wife as she has a daughter, I 
don't believe you'll ever repent your bar- 
gain. So now to supper. To-morrow we 
shall gather all the poor of the parish 
about us, and the Mistakes of the Night 
shall be crowned with a merry morning. 
So, boy, take her ; and, as you have been 
mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, that 
you may never be mistaken in the wife. 
[Exeunt omnes 



OOPS TO CONQUER. 12$ 



EPILOGUE. 
By Dr. Goldsmith. 

Well, having stooped to conquer with 
success, 

And gained a husband without aid from 
dress, 

Still as a Barmaid, I could wish it too, 

As I have conquered him, to conquer 
you : 

And let me say, for all your resolution, 

That pretty Barmaids have done execu- 
tion. 

Our life is all a play, composed to please, 

u We have our exits and our entrances." 

The first act shows the simple country 
maid, 

Harmless and young, of everything 
afraid ; 

Blushes when hired, and with unmean- 
ing action, 

/ hopes as June to give you satisfaction. 

Her second act displays a livelier scene, — 

T1V unblushing Barmaid of a country 
inn. 

Who whisks about the house, at market 
caters, 

Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds 
the waiters. 

Next the scene shifts to town, and there 
she soars, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQU1 



The chop-house toast of ogling connois- 
seurs. 

On 'Squires and Cits she there displays 
her ai ^, 

And on tlu gridiron broils her lovers' 
hearts— 

And as she smiles, her triumphs to com- 
plete, 

Even Common Councilmen forget to eat. 

The fourth act shows her wedded to the 
'Squire, 

And madam now begins to hold it 
higher ; 

Pretends to taste, at Operas cries cava, 

And quits her Nancy Dawson for Che 
Faro. 

Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride 

Swims round the room, the Ueinel of 
Cheapside : 

Ogles and leers with artificial skill. 

Till, having lost in age the rower to kill, 

She sits all night at cards, and ogles at 
spadille. 

Such, through our lives, the eventful his- 
tory — 

The fifth and last act still remains for me. 

The Barmaid now for your protection 
prays, 

Turns female Barrister, and pleads for 
Bayes. 



HE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



EPILOGUE, 

To be spoken in the Character of Tony Lumpkin. 
By J. Ckadock, Esq. 

Well — now all's ended — and my com- 
rades gone, 

Pray what becomes of mother's nonly 
son ? 

A hopeful blade ! — in town I'll fix my 
station, 

And try to make a bluster in the nation : 

As for my cousin Neville, I renounce 
her — 

Off, in a crack, I'll carry big Bet Bouncer ! 

Why should not I in the great world 

appear ? 
I soon shall have a thousand pounds. 

a-year ! 
No matter what a man may here inherit, 
In London — 'gad, they've some regard to 

spirit. 
I see the horses prancing up the streets, 
And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she 

meets ; 
Then hoikes to jiggs and pastimes ev'ry 

night— 
Not to the plavs — they say it a'n't polite : 
To Sadler's- Wells, perhaps, or operas go,. 
And once, by chance, to the roratorio. 






SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 



Thus here and there, forever up and 
down, 

We'll set the fashions, too, to half the 
town ; 

And then at auctions — money ne'er re- 
gard — 

Buy pictures, like the great, ten pounds 
a-yard : 

Zounds ! we shall make these London 
gentry say, 

We know what's damn'd genteel as well 
as they ! 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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